A Slytherin's Dastardly Plans
by Wayward Awesome
Summary: The mind of a Slytherin may be considered 'evil' and somewhat 'nefarious', and in some cases almost 'diabolical', but, damn, do they come up with some great plans! HarryxDraco Slash! Rated for later chapters...
1. I Need a Plan

Disclaimer: Nothing in this here story belongs to me.

Warning: Harry/Draco slash

Hello again! I'm Back! Did you miss me? Yeah, I thought not. Anyway, here's another fanfic I hope you enjoy!

Lobe, Manaka-San

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I Need a Plan:

I'm beautiful, damn it! Strike that, I'm the embodiment of the word 'sexy'! My hair is the perfect shade of blonde and practically shines on its own! There is nothing more perfect or flawless than my skin, which, in the right light, will glow an iridescent pearl! Add my arctic - oh I love that word - eyes, and I'm drop dead gorgeous! I have bloody friggin' piano fingers so perfect, I could easily get away with that lime green finger nail polish Pansy bought me for Christmas - er, not that I'd _wear_ the nail polish, I could just pull it off if I wanted. Anyway, moving on with my rant…Girls would friggin' kill to have my waist! To top that off, no one has legs like mine, all long and gorgeous and everything! Add the fact that I'm tall and slender into the potion, and I have boys falling at my feet. Except for him, damn it!

I mean, it's not like he's the kind of person who's rich and famous and can have anyone he wants - oh wait, yes he is! That bastard, who does he think he is? Just because he's all that and a bag of Every Flavor Beans does _not_ give him license to do that to me, damn it!

"Pansy!" I hear my voice echo down the stairs and into the common room. A loud thud - might have been her Potions book - and angry footsteps rang back up the stairs and into my dorm room.

"I was in the middle of my Transfigurations paper," she bellowed from the doorway. So I was wrong about which book it was, big whoop. "It's due Monday, I hope you know!"

"Is there something wrong with me? Something, I don't know, repulsive?" I asked, never taking my eyes from my full-length mirror.

"Mentally or physically?" Pansy asked, crossing the room to sit on my bed.

"You, Pansy Parkinson, are a bitch."

She crossed her legs and began inspecting her fingernails, which were painted an interesting shade of neon purple. "I try."

"I'm sure you do. Now answer the question," I retorted.

"Draco," she sighed. "There's nothing wrong with you...physically. You're sex on a stick. Now, tell me who rejected you this time to make you ask such a stupid question."

"'This time'?" I asked, finally turning from the mirror. "Is there a time when I've been rejected that I am unaware of? Like you said, I'm sex on a stick, no one rejects me."

"Except for this mystery boy," she added, earning herself a Malfoy death-glare, something I had perfected at the tender age of six. She ignored it and continued. "Speaking of which, are you going to tell me who he is?"

"No. That's my dirty little secret. And he technically didn't reject me. It was more of a 'Shut the hell up' glare as he shoved past me." Turning my back to her again, I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. "I have to make him notice me...Maybe if I wear red tomorrow. Hmmm...But it makes me look all blotchy, and that's rather unappealing."

"Wait, red?" Pansy asked, peering at me through black fringe. "Does that mean he's in Gryffindor?"

I tensed and drew my breath. Damn my big mouth. After all, Pansy's not _that_ stupid - and she has that nifty little thing called woman's intuition - and there are only so many half-way decent looking blokes in the aforementioned - HA! I can use big words! - house, save one down right sexy one. It won't take her long to add two and two to get-

"EW! Weasley?" Five? I felt my face drop in horror as I turned to face her again. She began to howl with laughter. "Oh, Merlin! I was joking!"

"Pansy, you moral less wench!" I cried, grabbing on of my green pillows at hitting her over the head with it. "Don't even joke about the Weasel like that! I almost threw up!"

"Okay. Okay," she gasped, wiping a tear from one heavily make-upped eye. She rode out her giggle fit before continuing. "But, really. I can't believe you fancy Potter."

Okay, Pansy could still do basic mathematics. That's a relief. "Well, start believing it and help me with my clothes for tomorrow. And possibly a plan to make him notice me."

"If I must," she sighed. She never could hide what she was really feeling, and I could tell that she was rather excited about helping me put together an outfit.

"Yes, you must," I said, returning to my incessant gazing at the mirror. I heard Pansy jump from my bed and start digging through my wardrobe.

TBC.


	2. Only a Slytherin

Disclaimer: Same as before...

Warning: If you got this far without realizing it's a Harry/Draco slash...then you're a bit special.

Hey, here's the next chapter. Enjoy.

Lobe, Manaka

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Only a Slytherin Could Think of a Plan So Diabolical:

"Are you sure this will work?" Blaise asked me the next morning at breakfast. Pansy - and her big mouth - told him everything. Evidently, she doesn't share in my appreciation of the 'I could tell you but I'd have to kill you' thing.

"Yes," I answered for the millionth time, pulling at the neck of a turtleneck I didn't even know I possessed. It was a dark maroon, but not too dark, and went great with my gray, fitted slacks. But I still say it would have looked better on anyone else. I don't say that often.

Who am I joking? I've never said that. I can pull off things others can't, how is this any different?

Oh, yeah. Red and pale don't go together. Even if the red is dark and brings out my eyes. Wait...I'm off track again...I do believe it's Pansy's turn to add to the conversation that's going nowhere...

"Stop playing with that," Pansy scolded, smacking my hand away. "Now you're sure he'll be in the library?"

"Yes." I was really beginning to sound like on of father's old and broken records, constantly repeating myself. We'd been over this more than a few times since last night. "It's Sunday, he's a known procrastinator, and that Transfigurations essay is due tomorrow. He'll be there."

The rest of breakfast flew by with their incessant interrogations, and before I knew it, I was hurrying away from my Slytherin comrades and toward the library.

_You can do this. You can do this, _became the chant that played over and over in my head as I came to the large, double, oak doors of my destination. Something in my stomach tried to convince me otherwise, but I managed to ignore it.

"Here goes nothing," I muttered to myself as I pushed open the doors.

The library was rather empty and quiet for a Sunday. Not a single Ravenclaw came into view as I scanned the room.

_Of course not,_ I thought to myself, _every essay they had would have been completed the day it was assigned._

There was, however, a small group of first-year Hufflepuffs sitting at a table, scribbling away at what looked like a Charms paper. An even smaller group of fifth-year Slytherins had secluded themselves in an alcove, poring themselves over a single book. I smiled to myself as I realized they were plotting to use whatever spells they found in those pages to have some 'fun' with a group of fifth-year Gryffindors seated - rather stupidly if you ask me - only three tables away. There was one last table that was occupied by stuff alone.

An open Transfigurations text, a multitude of scrolls, an ink-well, and a quill were sprawled across the wood surface, but there was no one sitting with them. Glancing around, I found their owner thumbing through some book, not even paying attention to his possessions. Bad move on his part. Oh well. I took the opportunity to 'casually' walk over to his abandoned table. The many scrolls were all titled the same and included the word 'Transfigurations', but most had ink scribbled across much of the space. The one on top looked relatively long and lacked the scribbles. Hoping it was the one he would need for tomorrow, I plucked it from the pile, glancing around to make sure no one would notice. The dark-haired boy to whom the pile of essays belonged remained blissfully unaware. I dropped a 'ransom note' onto the open text book, assuming that it would catch his attention. Proud of the 'success' of my 'mission', I strolled out the oak doors, breaking into a run as I rounded one corner, heading for the dungeons.

TBC


	3. Spoils of War Or Something

Disclaimer: I own nothing...now isn't _that_ pathetic?

Warning:...harry/draco slash.

Another chapter for all your reading needs. Enjoy.

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Spoils of War...Or Something:

"I got it! I got it!" I cried as I burst through the entrance to the Slytherin common room. "I got his essay! Now he'll have to come see me if he wants it back!"

"Oh, let me see," Pansy said, jumping from her large, cushy armchair. As she took the scroll from me, I noticed her nails had changed color. It normally didn't catch my attention, since she usually painted and repainted them daily, each color more outrageous and bright than the last, but this color was all too familiar to ignore.

"Is that _my_ nail polish?" I asked accusingly.

"Yeah. But, admit it, you're never going to wear it," she replied with a shrug as she began to read over the stolen essay. "Hey, Dray. I don't think this is his."

"What do you mean?" I asked, grabbing the essay from her. "It was with his stuff."

"Yeah, well. Look at the handwriting," she said, taking one side so we held the parchment between the two of us. "When has his writing been so neat? Hasn't it always been chicken-scratch?"

"Yeah, this is really neat. Almost like a girl's," I agreed. Not many boys - me included - had such carefully cursived handwriting like the example in front of me. Most male students at Hogwarts fell into the stereotypical male role when it came to their illegible writing. The it hit me. "Merlin in leather! This must be Granger's! That bastard!"

"So. He'll have to come get it back tonight anyways, right?"

"Yeah, but what if he sends Granger to retrieve her own essay?"

"Well, knowing him, he'll pretend nothing's wrong, come get it himself, and get it to her tomorrow. No one will ever think that the essay was out of his possession."

She had a point. He had this 'I'll save the day without anyone knowing it' kind of personality.

"Okay, the plan's still plausible," I said at last, hoping I was right.

"So you're still going to go up there and wait?" Blaise asked from his armchair. Damn bastard, he'd been listening the whole time.

"Naw," I drawled sarcastically - something else I perfected at a young age. "I'm gonna act like some scared Hufflepuff and completely bypass a chance to see him alone."

"That's not the Draco Malfoy we all know and love," Blaise replied honestly, confirming our suspicions that he had, indeed, been dropped on his head as a child. Pansy and I stared at him like he'd just sprouted wings from his ears.

"Is sarcasm a foreign language to you?" Pansy asked. Blaise gave her a blank expression and turned away. She looked at me and whispered, "Some people should have been born blonde."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked in mock anger. "I do believe that I am beautifully blonde and one of the most intelligent people in our year."

"Yes, you Malfoys are a rare breed," Pansy agreed with a nod. "But more often than not, blondes are rather dimwitted. Why, just the other day, some blonde made a total fool of herself in Care of Magical Creatures, spouting something about some creature that even the oaf hadn't heard of. Best part of it all was, she thought what she was talking about was actually real!!"

I couldn't do anything other than agree with her. And maybe laugh, but that's not the point.

TBC...


	4. Big, Scary Gryffindor

Do I have to keep repeating myself..? Please don't make me...I don't wanna...Yes, I'm whining!

Anyway...hope you like the new chapter.

Lobe Manaka

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Big, Scary Gryffindor:

Lunch and any down-time was spent with Pansy and preferably a good distance from Blaise. When dinner finally rolled around, I was fidgety and butterflies had decided to do a dance in my stomach. And no, it wasn't a waltz. It was an all out mosh pit. I was highly surprised that I didn't see the occasional protruding lump when I would glance down at my otherwise flat stomach. On top of that, I was in no mood for food of any sort and proceeded to pick apart my shepard's pie. The poor thing was all levels of demolished when the double doors burst open and in walked the troublesome-trio. Well, it was more like drastically-overprotective-duo and a single-sexy-stud-muffin, but let's not delve into that.

"You lost it!" Granger's voice rang through the Great Hall. "Harry, how the fuck do you manage to lose everything I lend you? It's not like it sprouted legs and walked away!"

"Five points from Gryffindor for language," Snape called from the teacher's table. Granger didn't seem to notice.

"Actually, Herm, it could've," Weasley interjected. As much as it pained me, I had to admit, he did have a point. This is, after all, a school of witchcraft and wizardry where things can grow legs at the flick of someone's wand and simply walk away. Her essay, however, did no such thing.

"Shut up, Ron."

"I didn't lose it, Hermione," Harry defended. "Someone stole it."

Unconsciously, I slouched rather un-Malfoy-like in my seat.

"Do you know who stole it?" Granger asked.

"Well, no," Harry answered almost reluctanly, and seeing that she was about to continue on her rant, he quickly added, "I know how to get it back. Promise."

"Fine," Granger sighed heavily. "But if it's not back in my hands by breakfast tomorrow, you _will_ be in the infirmary by lunch."

A threat coming from Granger is like an intelligent idea coming from Vince or Greg; it just didn't happen. But it didn't make the idea of her actually threatening someone any less scary. Especially when that someone was one of her best friends. I really didn't want to think about the list of hexes she would use on me if she ever found out her precious essay was in my possession. My thoughts flew to third year when I made some remark about something or another and her reaction to said statement. I rubbed my jaw, praying for the list of hexes if it came down to a punishment I particularly didn't think I deserved.

Another outburst from Granger yanked my attention to the trio again.

"You found a fucking note!?" She emphasized her unpleased state by smacking Harry on the arm.

"Another five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger," Snape called again. And again, Granger took no notice.

"What the hell does it say?" A pause as she tore the note from Harry's hands and read it over. "You'd better meet whoever the hell this bastard is and get it back to me, damn it!"

Snape deducted more House points still, but he went unnoticed by the students, all of whom seemed to find the altercation - if you wanted to call it that - too entertaining to even think about teachers and their silly words.

"Granger doesn't seem too happy to learn that someone stole her essay," Pansy whispered into my ear.

"What was your first clue?" I asked. "The ranting, the cursing, or the hitting?"

"Does 'any combination of the three' work?" she asked, laughing.

"I guess," I answered with a shrug. My foot began to thump against the floor as I thought about later that night again. "Are you sure I can do this?"

"It's my job to ask that," Pansy said. "It's your job to say, 'Yes Pansy, I am a master of deceit and multitasking' and be done with it."

"I'm a master of multitasking?" I asked. Apparently, I had a skill I was unaware of.

"Sure, you can brag, gloat, boast, flaunt, exaggerate, flatter yourself, show off, toot your own horn, appear slightly narcissistic, extremely conceited, _and_ annoy random people all at the same time," she answered in an as-a-matter-of-factly tone. "It takes someone with an abundance of skill to pull that off."

"But aren't most of those just synonyms for each other?" I asked. Blaise, who was seated all too close at five feet away, decided to take this opportunity to speak up. We really should reconsider the usage of difficult words while he's within earshot. Well, words that are difficult to a first-year.

"What does bragging have to do with cinnamon?"

I found it extremely difficult to suppress the urge to stab him with my fork. Instead, I threw it at him.

TBC


	5. Damn Bastard

Disclaimer: Don't own them...blah blah blah...

Warning: Harry/Draco slash blah blah blah

Blah blah blah blah...enjoy.

Lobe Manaka

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Damn Bastard:

Midnight found me standing outside the door to the Astronomy Tower, staring down at the handle. The butterflies had obviously gotten drunk a good while ago and were now jumping around my stomach like it were some Muggle device used for jumping. Merlin, I know what it's called, too. Just give me a sec, Pansy told me about them...they're called...shit! I think it started with a 't', or was it a 'p'. No, definitely a 't'...I don't know. Anyway, they're being all bouncy and everything, that's the point. Taking a deep breath to calm the overly excited butterflies, I pushed the door open.

No one was waiting for me. I glanced at the silver and emerald watch adorning my right wrist. 12:05. And here I thought _I_ was late! Damn bastard doesn't even have the decency to show up on time! I found an old and rather ugly chair in which to sit while I waited.

"_Meet me in the Astronomy Tower at midnight if you want your essay back. HA!!! You bastard!_" The deep, disembodied voice caused me to jump from the chair and a shriek to escape my lips- er, I mean, a manly yell. Yes, very manly, like those of Scottish warriors as they marched to battle against the English. I hope. Then, Harry came into view from only Merlin knew where. Damn bastard and his fucking Cloak. "And I'm not in the least bit surprised to find that you were behind it, Malfoy. It may have been the green envelope, the silver ink, or maybe - just maybe - that stupid confession and your stupid prank."

_'Stupid confession!'_ Does he have any idea how hard that was for me? And what's he spouting off about a prank?

"I have no idea what you're talking about? What prank?" My voice proclaiming something between innocence and confusion.

"Just give me Hermione's essay so I can go," he demanded, his emerald eyes glaring at me like they'd always done before. He stuck one hand out toward me, obviously expecting me to drop the stolen scroll into it. I, however, made no such move.

"Now just hold your horses." Yes, I do know _some_ Muggle sayings, thank you very much. Pansy seems to have jumped onto the 'Muggle Band Wagon' and feels that it is her duty to tell me _all_ about them. I tend not to listen, but sometimes I'm bored and have nothing better to do. "And I repeat: What 'prank' has my genius mind thought up this time that I seem to be unaware of?"

Harry scoffed. "The one where you confess your 'undying love' to me and try to make me look like some sappy school girl, falling head over heels for the 'Great Draco Malfoy', just to laugh at me later. Well, I don't know who told you or what they told you, but it's not gonna work."

Hearing this, my knees gave out and I collapsed into the chair, burying my head in my hands. _How the fuck can he think this is some sort of prank?_

After a few more moments, I managed to regain a little of the composure I had lost.

"It wasn't - it's not - just some stupid prank." I was slightly surprised at my own voice, being shaky and quiet as it was. "And it wasn't a stupid confession, either. Those were...those _are_ my real feelings."

"Yeah, right," Harry said, reaching forward and plucking the rolled up scroll from where it peeked out the front of my robes. "We hate each other, remember?"

With that, he turned toward the door. I heard his foot falls on the carpet, retreating farther out of my range of grasp. It wasn't until I heard the latch of the door open that I dared raise my head up from my hands. Harry stood in the doorway, about to close the door behind him. I didn't want him to because it was a physical manifestation of the barrier that he obviously wanted between us.

"Harry," I called in a last ditch effort to make him stay or at least see that there was no prank.

"It's Potter to you, Malfoy," he replied in a bitter tone. It was then that he closed the door.

All at once, I was bombarded with a multitude of emotions. Anger was the first to be recognized. _How the fuck could he just say that so coldly while I was obviously heartbroken and honest? And who the fuck does he think he it, putting my confession down as some petty prank? How the hell did he not notice the hurt and sadness that were so plainly displayed in my eyes? Damn bastard!!_ Self-pity, now there's one I've never experienced. _Maybe I'm meant to be alone. Maybe I've done too many bad things, and this is my retribution. Karta. Or was it karna? _Heartbreak was the one that took the longest to recognize. _He doesn't even like me. Not in the least._

Then confusion entered the mixture. _What did he mean by 'I don't know who told you'?_

At length, anger won out over all of them. It's _his_ fault for all of this. _He's_ the one that misunderstood the meaning behind the words I spoke to him in the corridor. _He's _the one that seems to think I'm only out to get him - well, I _am_ out to get him, but not in the way that he's thinking. It's his entire bloody fucking fault for the way I'm feeling right now.

"DAMN BASTARD!"

TBC...


	6. Midnight Conspirators

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, I'm merely 'borrowing' them for a while.

Warning: Slash...Harry/Draco

Thank y'all for reviewing for the last couple of chapters!! Oh, and special thanks to everyone who didn't harbor death-like feelings toward me because of my last chapter...Yay!

Anyway...enjoy this one. Lobe Manaka-San

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Midnight Conspirators:

Pansy was still up when I walked into the common room that night - er, morning, I guess. She was curled up in one of the armchairs by the fire, reading some Muggle romance book. As she turned the page, my eyes caught the electric blue of her nails, which, to the shame of any Slytherin, clashed with the bright purple of her night gown. I didn't bother telling her that.

Somehow - I still say it's woman's intuition - she sensed that she was no longer alone and shifted her gaze to my clearly unhappy face. Her own visage instantly changed to one of concern and I could tell that all she wanted was to comfort my obvious pains. She seems to have some sort of an 'inner mother' trait that takes over at times like this, however few and far between they are. She beckoned me to the chair at her side with a pat on its armrest. When I finally sat, she took my right hand in hers and asked the question I quite frankly didn't want to answer.

"What's wrong, Draco?"

I knew she knew the answer, but gave it to her anyway. "He flat out rejected me."

I had expected tears or at the very least for my voice to crack. I thought I would shake and tremble and wish to be alone for a good portion of my time. Nothing. I was, however, a little more than slightly pissed at him for the way he handled it all.

"So that's it? Is it all over?" Pansy asked, giving my hand a squeeze.

The idea of me actually giving up on something struck me as funny. 'It's not like a Malfoy to give up, so try your damnedest not to,' my father had told me when I was young and on the verge of quitting piano lessons after just one session. That soon became one of my many mottos that I would say in the morning when I got up and repeat when I went to bed at night. _I will not give up on anything. _

Suddenly, I was filled with an all new determination.

"Hell no," I snorted. Snorting was something else Malfoys evidently didn't do, but I wasn't so strict with that one. "What's one little dilemma? Just means that I need another plan."

"That's the spirit," she said cheerfully, releasing my hand. "So what's our course of action this time?"

"Uh, I don't know yet," I replied. "But it has to be something not only to get his attention, but to also make him regret turning me down to begin with. "

"How Slytherin of you, Dray," she commented with a laugh.

"I know. And to imagine, I actually got Sorted into this House," I said, sarcasm lacing the words.

Giggling, Pansy glanced at the clock sitting on the mantle of the fireplace.

"Well, I'm gonna go to bed, love." Her statement was punctuated with a yawn. "You should get some sleep, too."

"Hell no! I have a despicable and diabolical plan to think up. There is no way I'm going to bed just yet." I sat back in the chair and the thought of something he said sprang into my mind. "Oh, and Pans, what would you think it meant if he said, 'I don't know who told you'?"

"I would see it as he has some secret he doesn't want you to know about," she replied, patting my hand. "Make sure to go to bed at one point before dawn." She turned and walked to the stairs leading to her dorm room. "Night, Dray."

"Night, Pans. Oh, and speaking of dawn, I'm getting you up at its butt crack to help me!" I called after her.

Just as the door shut behind her, she called back, "Yeah, and you can go screw yourself!"

I leaned forward to pull at a piece of parchment and snatch a quill and ink from a pile on the table. People should really clean up after they're done with their homework.

"No thank you," I mumbled to myself. "I'll leave _that_ to Harry."

TBC...


	7. My Pet Rock

Disclaimer:...nothing belongs to me.

Warning: Harry/Draco slash

Aha!!! It's finally gettin good...er, I mean...yay, new chapter! Enjoy!

Lobe, Manaka-San

* * *

My Pet Rock:

"So _that's_ the plan?" Pansy asked after I told her my fool-proof plan the next morning, during breakfast. Blaise, thankfully, was seemingly interested in whatever Vince and Greg were talking about. Good, he was finally meeting others with the same brain capacity as him.

"You'd think that we'd eventually evolve from yes/no questions," I commented idly. I shrugged and went to work on my waffles.

"But, Draco, many elements of your plan may not even work," she said, her voice only loud enough for me to hear. "I mean, like this one-" she pointed to the parchment I had written my perfect plan on "-who's to say he'll even respond to that?"

"We'll find out soon now won't we?" I asked, picking up and biting into one of the strawberries adorning my morning meal. "Now shut up or our little genius over there will hear us."

The both of us finished off the food on our plates before making our way to the first class of the day: Transfigurations. Pansy clutched at the essay that she finished Saturday while I kept mine hidden away in my book bag. And, yes, it was finished. Ages ago, I might add.

Okay, truth be told, I finished it the day after it was assigned. I'm not some friggin' Ravenclaw, though, I _do_ have some self restraint when it came to my homework. I waited a whole day before doing the damn thing.

"You're lucky, Harry." Granger's voice filled the corridor as we neared the classroom. "I had a whole list of hexes to use on you. If you told me the name of the fucking bastard that took it in the first place, the list wouldn't had been a _complete_ waste."

Looks as though she's still slightly pissed. And, did my ears deceive me or did she just whine at Harry for not telling her who stole her essay? Oh, what a beautiful day, progress has been made. I hope.

"Me thinks the Gryffindor is still mad about something," I called as I approached the trio standing among the rest of our Transfigurations class. I couldn't resist; after all, it's not like _she's _the one I like.

"And me thinks the Slytherin needs to shut the fuck up," she retorted.

"Oh, wit _and _a slightly sadistic side," I smirked. "It's a wonder how you didn't manage to get Sorted into Slytherin."

"Hmm, the incapability to shut up _and _obsessed with your own hair," she countered, crossing her arms. "It's a wonder how you didn't manage - oh wait, you _did_ get Sorted into Slytherin. That explains a lot."

"Oh, that hurt," I said melodramatically and clutched at the front of my robes. "Right down to my cold, black heart."

"Assuming you have one," Granger replied.

"Hey, I said it was cold and black, isn't that enough evidence of its existence? Well, it might even be shriveled up, too, but let's not go into that." To the surprise of those around me, my voice contained no bitterness or venom. Instead, it was slightly amused and carried with it an offering of a laugh at my own expense. I even gave a short laugh to encourage others to do the same; slowly, and rather cautiously, the crowd of seventh-year Transfigurations students let themselves laugh. Some, however, only sighed at the release of tension in the air.

"You've gone mental, Ferret," Weasley commented as the crowd parted to allow Professor McGonagall access to her classroom.

"Says you, Weasel."

As the professor opened the classroom door and the mob slowly began to file in and take their seats, I chanced a glance back to the troublesome trio to find all three pairs of eyes staring at me. Weasley's stare seemed to question my sanity - which I assure you is still intact. Granger's reflected her shock at my willingness to forfeit the verbal duel - albeit, reluctantly. Harry's showed his anger - probably because he still thinks this is some prank - and slight confusion - after all, I didn't insult anyone's bloodline or financial status and instead insulted myself, that would confuse anyone.

Transfigurations class went by without much incident - at first. Everyone handed in their - in most cases - finished essays. The professor droned on about something or another, most of which most of the class listened to. The students attempted to turn their pet rocks into something resembling - er, I'm not sure, really, I wasn't paying attention. Instead, I wondered idly why _I _didn't have a pet rock when I was younger. Surely mine would had been far more entertaining than anything any Muggle had ever owned. I could had made it bite people's ankles - or in the case of my second-cousin-twice-removed, cankles. Or I could had even made it scare small children; but then I'd have had to call it Lucius. That wasn't a pleasant thought. Oh! And it would had been green. With silver eyes. And it would end up looking like a snake.

Wait, is there such thing as being too Slytherin?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

"Psst, Dray." Pansy's voice disrupted my pet rock related thoughts. Damn her, the stupid stone was almost perfect in my head. Scowling, I turned to her.

"What, dear?" I whispered back to her as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Not to my surprise, her fingernails had changed color since last night. How I didn't notice that bright and almost offensive orange this morning at breakfast is beyond me.

"Mr. Malfoy, may I see your rock?" Professor McGonagall's voice rang through the room. Everyone's eyes turned toward me and my pet rock, which seemed to lack the color and...feathers?...of everyone else's.

_'That,'_ Pansy mouthed, giving me an apologetic smile.

"Sure, ma'am," I answered. "If you insist."

"Oh, I insist," she replied in an annoyed tone, crossing her arms over her chest. When I did not present my rock for display, a soft _thump thump thump_ could be heard even at the back of the class where Pansy and I were seated. I could only assume it was her foot on the stone floor.

A moment of inspiration hit me before I tapped the end of my wand to the rock, muttering some spell that most certainly wasn't the one she had taught us. The change was subtle and unseen by any other than those around me.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you be so kind as to bring it to the front so I can see it?"

_Kind?_ I knew _some_ people, and I'm not going to mention any names - cough, _Weasel_, cough - wouldn't think that I was ever kind. But yes, I was going to be kind enough to take my pet rock to the front to show the impatient woman.

"Here you go, professor," I said, offering her the rock. She took it from my hand and examined it, obviously not all too ecstatic at the fact that it didn't even resemble what it was supposed to. After a few moments, she returned her gaze to me. If the look in her eyes was anything to go by, boy was I in trouble.

"What, may I ask, is this?" Her tone didn't even try to hide her annoyance at the lack of attention I had paid to her lecture.

Without missing a beat, I answered, "I do believe it's called a rock. Some Muggles used to keep them as pets. This one is green and has really pretty silver eyes-"

I was interrupted by a howl of pain. My precious rock was thrown from her grasp and flew toward the sandy-haired Finnegan who was seated - all too closely if you ask me - next to the delectable Harry. Damn, it missed. I returned my attention to Professor McGonagall, who was clutching the hand that had been holding the rock.

"Oh, and apparently I forgot to mention that it bites," I commented in feigned innocence. Ill-concealed snickered resonated from the Slytherin population of the room.

"You, Mr. Malfoy," she seethed, "have detention tonight after dinner with Professor Snape!"

_Oh, damn,_ I thought sarcastically to myself. The means weren't _exactly_ how I had planned, but the end was same as I had hoped.

TBC...


	8. Some Call Me Manipulative I Don't See It

Disclaimer: I own nothing...I want to and I will, eventually, but they will be characters of my own mind.

Warning: Harry/Draco Slash

How 'bout it? Ready to read yet another exciting installment of ASDP? Yeah, I thought so. Well, without further ado, please allow me to present...the next chapter!!

Enjoy, Manaka

* * *

Some Call Me Manipulative, I Don't See It:

My next two classes were no where relatively near Harry, resulting in no more chances for the next phase of my plan. Arithmancy was a bore, as usual and nothing much happened in History of Magic. Well, Vince thought it would be amusing to throw something at the teacher. The something had been his pet rock and it went more through him than at him, breaking an old and rather expensive looking vase on the desk behind Professor Binns. Poor Vince soon found out that being yelled at by a ghost is rather different than being yelled at by a living person.

Lunch wasn't an opportune time for the plan either, with everyone around and no way to talk to Harry all by his onesy. Is that even a word? Pansy started saying it after watching something called a 'movie' with ships and something called 'pirates', I think. From what she described to me, those 'pirate' folk are a little more than slightly filthy and in great need of dental work. _I_ wouldn't want to run into that lot in some dark alley. I'm digressing again...damn it.

Anyway...the fourth class of the day was going to be interesting if I had anything to say about it.

I was the first one to Advanced Potions to have a little 'heart-to-heart' with my godfather. Okay, so it was more like me bribing and begging him to pair me with Harry, but that's between me and him. To my great joy, he finally agreed and promised not to tell anyone about the begging. Well, it was probably more along the lines of he would rather cut off his own hand than tell anyone because, despite the fact that it would make me look completely and utterly pathetic, he would seem just as pathetic by association. Oh how I adore his show of loyalty.

As the first students began to filter into the classroom, chatting amongst themselves, I slid into my seat, hopefully with a look of total innocence on my face. Mind you, my 'innocence' is usually the equivalent to others' 'I haven't done anything...yet.'

Pansy came into the room, and quickly took the seat next to mine. She glanced at me and, recognizing the look in my eyes, sighed and began reading her romance book from last night until the class was called to order.

Harry and his friends were the last to enter and take their seats.

"Now, listen carefully," Severus said as the class quieted down. "And, yes, I am aware that one simple thing may be difficult for you." He stared pointedly at Weasley. "You will be making the potion on page 352, exactly where we left off on Friday. The supplies are in the cupboard, as you all should know after seven years in the same class. You may begin-" some students began to move toward the supply cupboard "-_after_ I assign your partners."

The groan from the general population of the students in the room filled the air. My own smirk was hidden from view of everyone else, except Pansy, who rolled her eyes.

"Parkinson. Granger."

"I hate you, Draco," she hissed at me half-heartedly as she gathered her stuff and moved.

"Love you, too," I whispered back.

"Goyle. Weasley."

More groans from both parties.

Crossing my arms on the table and resting my head in them, I tuned out the rest of the pairings, waiting for Harry to come sit in the now vacant seat next to me. I vaguely registered the fact that Severus had stopped talking when a book bag was dropped on the stone floor close to me and someone sat beside me, sighing aggregately. I turned toward his glaring green eyes.

"Afternoon, Potter," I greeted with a smirk. He leaned in suddenly, and I almost though he would kiss me or something.

"I don't know what you're up to, Malfoy," he said. Damn, and I wanted him to kiss me. "But I'm gonna find out, and when I do, I'm gonna put a stop to it."

"Sure you are," I replied sarcastically. "Now be a good little boy and fetch the ingredients."

Grumbling, he actually complied. Shocking. As he made his way to the cupboard with half the class, I allowed my eyes to follow him. He had grown a lot over the years, just as I have. We stood about the same height now, but his frame was more filled out than mine, more of what they call a 'Quidditch body', all lean and everything with the hint of toned muscles under his robes (why the fuck to I not have a body like that? _Noo_, I have to have a slender and fragile looking body - er, not that I'm complaining or anything). Oh, and speaking of his robes, he seemed to have a whole new wardrobe this year and everything he owned fit properly. No more of those jeans that were falling off at every chance (although I liked the idea of his jeans falling off). His hair was as messy as ever, though. Maybe even more so since it was longer, constantly trying to hide those beautiful green eyes that were already safe behind those awful glasses. I sighed, reluctantly tearing my gaze away as he turned to come back to our station, the ingredients in hand.

"There, happy?" Harry asked, dropping the items from his arms onto the desk.

"Inescapably," I answered, flipping through my Potions text to page 352. I skimmed through the paragraph detailing how exactly to concoct the potion. "Now, could you start removing their stingers?" I absently pointed to the billywigs included in the ingredients with my right hand.

"Malfoy, is that...?" Harry asked. Slightly confused by his incomplete sentence, I looked away from the book to see what he was talking about. His eyes, however, were fixed on my hand. "Are you wearing..._nail polish_?"

"Oh, yeah," I answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world for me to be wearing the lime green paint on my nails. I brought the hand he'd been staring at out in front of me and fanned my fingers. "And here Pansy said I'd never wear it, despite the fact that it was her who gave it to me in the first place."

"She bought you nail polish?" Now he was really beginning to sound shocked.

"Yeah, for Christmas." I cupped my chin in my right hand and looked at him, somewhat surprised to see that his gaze had followed my nails. Giving him a smile, I asked, "You like it?"

Oh it was worth it to wear the damned offending nail polish just to watch him fumble for words. Every time he seemed to open his mouth to answer, his mind obviously decided that wasn't the proper response and he promptly closed it again. After looking like a ridiculous gold fish for a few moments, he mumbled a barely audible "It's okay, I guess" before starting on the removal of billywig stingers.

Smirking, I returned my attention to the book in front of me. Instead of skimming the page, I read it in it's entirety, from top to bottom. Not surprising, it was a relatively easy potion to brew and wouldn't take me the whole class time to make like it would most other students in the class. This time, however, my potion wouldn't make it to the final stage. Nope, it would end up all over the potions lab, and possibly in many peoples' hair - not mine, of course. I, thankfully, wouldn't be blamed for it.

As the class proceeded, I completed the first few steps, acting like the competent potions whiz-kid I am. By all appearances, Harry and I were going to finish our potion within the next couple of minutes. Intentionally, I pointed at the stingers and instructed him to put them into the lavender colored brew. They weren't_ supposed _to go in before airhost leaves because they would react with the other ingredients already in the potion and cause a small but messy explosion. What was supposed to happen and what did happen are two different things, though.

"Potter, no!" I exclaimed, just to make it look like I didn't blow up our cauldron deliberately. The 'warning', however, was too late.

I barely ducked under the table just before lavender goo flew in all directions, splattering any and everyone in its way. The 'pop' that accompanied the 'explosion' wasn't particularly loud and didn't give anyone time to cover themselves as I had. Shrieks emanated from the female students while long, drawn out groans emanated from the male students. I took that as a sign that it had worked. Surpressing a grin, I reappeared from my safe haven under the table to find a good portion of the class was dripping with an amount of goo that was much too vast to have come from a single potion. With a jolt of elation, I realized that my explosion caused a chain reaction, the resulting factor being that every single cauldron lost its contents.

"Potter," a now lavender-robed Severus called from the front of the class. "May I ask exactly what you did wrong this time?"

"I- it wasn't -I swear," Harry tried to defend as potion dripped from the end of his nose.

I raised my hand, not even bothering to wait until Severus called on me before I spoke. "Uh, sir, it was my fault. I'll take the blame."

I knew it wouldn't work, in fact I had planned on it not working. The original intention of my taking the blame was not to get blamed myself, but to get Harry to see me as something other than the prat who was constantly trying to get him in trouble.

"Very noble of you, Draco," Severus replied, wiping one sleeve across his face without much use. "But I do believe it was Potter that I saw put the stingers in your potion at the wrong moment. I know _you_ wouldn't make such an amateur mistake." He turned his attention back to Harry who was busy trying to rid his glasses of the goo. "Twenty points from Gryffindor as well as detention after dinner, am I clear, Potter?"

"Crystal, professor," he murmured in response.

I gave Harry an apologetic smile before attempting to clean our station of the offending lavender goo. He merely sighed as he finished the cleansing of his glasses.

When class was finally excused, and I was organizing my stuff, Harry stayed beside me, waiting for me to give him my attention. Finally, when all my stuff was in my book bag and slung over one shoulder, I turned to him.

"Uh, I guess, thanks for trying to take the blame," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "You really didn't have to. It was probably really my fault anyway."

He was so adorable, just standing there, thanking me and actually admitting to something he obviously didn't do. I smiled at him again. "It was nothing." I turned on one heel and moved toward the door, taking only one step before stopping again and looking over my shoulder. "Oh, and see you in detention tonight."

TBC...


	9. Muggle Romance Books Are OverRated

Disclaimer: Any and all characters mentioned below do not belong to me, I merely manipulate them.

Warning: Slashy slash slash...Harry and Draco.

Hey thar! Here is yet another exciting instalment of the story y'all are dying to read. Well, I just hope y'all aren't _really _offing yourselves when I post one a little later than I though I would...but that's not the point. The point is that you _love _the story and that's all that matter...right? And thank you so very much for reading/reviewing it. Oh, and thanks to Suki-Resu for being my beta. Love you dear.

Anyway, enjoy. Manaka-San

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Muggle Romance Books Are Over-Rated: 

Pansy and I were walking down the corridor toward the dungeons from our last class of the day when she decided that it was time for my next 'Muggle Lesson'.

"Hey, Dray, did you know that Muggle men go to establishments to watch women dance around naked?" she asked as we came to the stairs descending to our House dormitories.

"No, I was unaware to their lewd ways," I answered. Quite frankly, I wasn't interested in what Muggle men did with their free time. Especially with women of all things.

"Well, they do," she replied. "And to top that off, there's this thing called a fan-dance. It's where women would dance around naked and rather provocatively, using two extremely large fans so that they don't show the crowd anything that they don't want them to see. It's supposed to be beautiful as well as sexy."

"Fans, huh?" My attention had been grasped.

"Yeah, it's all explained in this book," Pansy said, holding up yet _another_ romance book. Glancing at the cover, I wasn't a bit shocked to get a 'great' view of a red-headed woman on some sort of stage, holding two huge, magenta fans, one in each hand. The fans in question were placed perfectly so as show as much of her ivory skin without actually revealing anything deemed inappropriate. The words _Fanning The Flames_ were placed just above her curly, red hair.

"What a corny name," I commented, pointing at the large, red letters.

"I know," she agreed. "They usually are. Like this one I read, it was called...what was it? ...oh, I can't remember, but they usually have names that are so very stupid. And the covers usually include Fabio. All bodice rippers are the same, though. Oh, and there's always 'trouser rippers', those can be interesting-"

I put up a hand to stop her as we came to the wall marking the entrance to the Slytherin Dungeons. "Okay, way too many new terms for me. Start with...oh, 'fabio' and work your way down the list with these terms I clearly don't know."

"Fine," she conceded. Pansy then turned toward the wall, saying, "sugar quills." I'm not entirely sure why we let Vince pick this password, but hey, you have to admit, no one would expect it from a Slytherin. As the wall moved for us and we entered our common room, she continued. "Okay, Fabio is the name given to the hunk on the cover of every single romance book. The women may change, his role may change, hell, even his name changes, but it's always the same muscular, long haired hottie that adorns the cover. Uh, what's next...oh, I guess bodice rippers. That's the nickname of romance books that have little or no plot and the only reason to read them is for the smutty parts. Mostly, the characters will be two completely different personalities, like the woman will be a quiet house-wife and the guy will be some sort of rouge who comes in a totally changes her life. If you've read one, you've read them all. And lastly is trouser rippers. Those are the same as bodice rippers, except for the fact that it's gay romance instead of straight. I read a really interesting one between a prince and his sister's husband-to-be. Oh, it made me giggle. You can borrow that one if you want."

"No, that's quite alright," I replied as my mischievous mind concocted a devious plot of its own. "But I wouldn't mind learning more about these 'fan-dances'. May I borrow that one?" I pointed to her copy of _Fanning The Flames_.

"Sure, I just finished it, so go ahead," Pansy said, handing me the book. "This one was different than most others in the fact that the roles were changed. He was just a quite husband without much of a life until his friends took him to a traveling show. There, he met Marissa, the dancer. _She_ changed _his_ life."

"Thanks," I offered, taking the book from her.

"Alright, you have fun with that," she said, smiling. "I have to go do something for one of the girls. See you at dinner."

"Yeah, bye," I called back as she left me in the common room. I looked around at the other occupants. Blaise, Vince, and Greg were on the floor near the fireplace, playing a game of Exploding Snap. Blaise had just exploded the pile of cards as the other two looked relatively upset at their own demise. A small group of first-years were crowded around the table. I wasn't sure what they were doing, but occasionally, one would rock back on his heels, yelling out as if in triumph. Sprawled out on the couch were two sixth-years, quite obviously too enthralled with each other to notice the going-ons of the room around them. Sighing to myself, I took the large, cushy chair that was usually but unofficially reserved for me, dropping my book bag at my feet. Curling myself into the cushy-ness, I opened the book and began to read.

The very first paragraph is what did it for me...never again am I going to read anything by a Muggle after this, I don't care how 'great' a book it is.

_She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; even his wife was nothing in comparison. Her red hair shone with the light of the lamps around her, making it look like nothing less than fire; a fire Edgar could feel flowing through his blood. Her bright blue eyes stood out against her flawless, ivory skin, piercing him to the very bone. Everything about her was perfect to him. As she danced on the make-shift stage with only her frilly fans to separate him from the perfect view of the skin he so longed to touch, he felt himself fill with lust. He was suddenly thankful that his friends persuaded him to come and watch. Marissa they called her. He wanted to call her 'Angel' and ask if she needed help getting back to her place in heaven. Edgar would give anything to her, he decided, even though he had never once spoken to her. She was the only woman he would ever focus his lust on now. _

_Okay_, I thought to myself. It was beyond corny. What kind of line is 'he wanted to ask if she needed help getting back to her place in heaven'? Some sort of really bad pick-up line? Idon'tthink that would work on anyone with any amount self-esteem. Reluctantly, I read on.

_He could see himself in his own bed, the one that he used to willingly share with his wife, ravishing her beautiful skin with bites and kisses as he thrust_- whoa! Not wanting to read what his own fantasies were, I skipped ahead to an unexpectedly detailed paragraph about the fan-dance.

_Marissa moved with a poise and elegance that he had never seen anyone possess. Her long fingers held the fans with strength and confidence as she flicked her wrists this way, then that, showing more skin with each flick. Her steps were carefully slow and provocative in nature, curling one leg up and under her before returning it to the floor, where she repeated the process. Occasionally, she would twirl and spin on her toes, expertly moving the fans with her and not allowing an inch more of skin to show than she wanted. The dance was intricate and gorgeous, attracting and commanding the attention of men and women alike. _

Hmm...Interesting. I wonder if there's any owl order services that could get me a couple of fans.

TBC...


	10. Seamus Finnigan Must Die

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, they just come over to play every once in a while.

Warning: Harry/Draco slash

Hey there. Hi there. Ho there. Chapter 10 is here at last...I knows, I'm a slow writer now that I have to actually have a plot. Oh well, the ideas keep coming and that's all that matters.

Thank you Suki-Resu for your awesome beta-ness.

To all others, Enjoy! Manaka

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Seamus Finnigan Must Die:

Dinner came quite suddenly since I had been reading Pansy's book and lost track of time. I don't know what she was talking about when she said it was 'interesting', boring and predictable was more like it. I knew what the woman was going to say before she did. And, surprise surprise, they slept together in, like, _every single chapter!_ Well, it was less 'slept together' than shagged each other senseless. And the man's poor wife, being left alone in their house while he ran away with that seductress. How did I know _that_ was going to happen? I must have the Sight, or something.

I walked up to the Great Hall in the company - reluctantly, mind you - of Blaise, Vince, and Greg, all of whom were talking with each other. I only caught snippets of their conversation, soon coming to the conclusion that the lot of them had been dropped on their heads as children. I sighed. I'm brilliant yet surrounded by dimwits; it's like I'm a moron magnet. What did I do to deserve this? This is where that 'k' thing that Pansy mentioned comes in again. I've had to have done something _incredibly_ evil in another life or something to get 'rewarded' with friends like these. I don't think I need to tell you that it was _very _longwalk up the stairs and to the Great Hall.

When we finally came to the large double doors marking the entrance to the Great Hall, Greg and Vince pulled them open, allowing me to enter first then following in my wake. Even after seven years of strutting into the dining hall in much the same way, people still turned to watch my entrance. Hell, even Harry, who had recently made a habit of ignoring me, looked up at me before turning back to the clearly pointless conversation he was having with Weasley - and, yes, it was pointless if only for the fact that it was with Weasley.

I made my way to the Slytherin table, with my entourage following at my heels, taking the empty seat next to Pansy while they sat a small distance down the table. As I sat, I noticed that the girl was absorbed in another romance novel. Lifting the left side of the book and trying not to disturb her reading, I read the title, which was written in dark blue lettering, and gave a short laugh. Do they hire people to make up those corny names? Before I let the cover drop back to the table, I noticed that 'Fabio' was joined not by a woman, but another man.

"So," I said to Pansy as I began to dish up my dinner. "Have you found that the sexual romps between men and women are just too boring and predictable to read all the time?"

"No," she answered, placing the book beside her plate before reaching for her own dinner. "This was just the next one to catch my attention."

"Okay, whatever floats that boat of yours," I replied, bringing a fork full of mashed potatoes to my mouth.

Pansy mimicked my actions before answering, "I'm not partial to boats, really."

"Barges? Schooners?" I asked, smiling. "Yachts?"

"I _do_ particularly like yachts," she said, smiling back and taking another bite of her dinner. I couldn't help but laugh at her comment. I myself would've chosen a schooner, with those large, triangular sails, the beautiful wood of the whole of the ship, and the scripted silver letters painted on the stern reading _Sea Dragon _- and a crew of course, you can't expect a Malfoy to do manual labor - but it was her boat to be floated, so I kept my mouth shut. Still smiling, my eyes wandered to the Gryffindor table. Without even lifting her gaze to said table, she commented, "Oh, and, in case you haven't noticed, Finnigan is all over your hunky piece of man meat. Has been since about ten minutes ago."

Oh I noticed.

The sandy haired Irish git was sitting so close to Harry, it seemed that from where I was seated, they were joined at the hip. Hell, the boy was almost in his bloody lap! Despite the fact that the table was obscuring the view, I knew that he had one hand resting on Harry's thigh as he leaned in to whisper something into the dark haired boy's ear - could he not think of somewhere else to fucking put it? Obviously it was something pleasant to some extent, because Harry grinned and looked at Finnigan, nodding. The gitty bastard went back to whispering into Harry's ear, making the grin widen into a smile and those green eyes to dance with something almost like anticipation. Harry turned to Weasley, who was having a rather animated discussion with Thomas about something clearly related to Quidditch, and muttered something to him. The ginger boy looked at him, then at Finnigan, then back again. Shrugging, he nodded in agreement to whatever Harry had said to him. Harry turned back to Finnigan, and the two of them stood, making a hasty exit from the Great Hall.

"Seamus bloody fucking Finnigan is going to die. Slowly, painfully, and preferably by my own hand."

I hadn't known that I had said the words aloud until I saw Pansy look at me from the corner of my eye. She clearly wanted to ask me what I had just said, but the look on my face obviously answered her unasked question since she merely shrugged and returned to her dinner, muttering something along the lines of 'whatever floats your boat.'

"Schooner," I corrected absentmindedly as I came out of my haze of jealous anger. I turned to her, but a glint of metallic...something caught my eye as she took a roll from the basket in front of her. Peering closer, I came to realize that it was her newest nail color. "Really, Pans. Silver?"

Pansy looked at her nails before answering. "Yeah, why? Something wrong with it?"

"No," I sighed. "It _is_ rather Slytherin, but I'm not fond of the color on your nails. Well, solid, at least. Now, if you had a dark green down as the base and did like a French tip with the silver, that might work."

Pansy stared at me as if I had said something either extremely stupid or in another tongue. After all, I _never_ suggested a better alternative for her nail color. "You did _not_ just say that."

"I'm afraid I did," I groaned, realizing what I had said. I glanced at my watch. Detention started in twenty minutes, and if I was to be alone with Harry for a good portion of the night, I would have to at the very least run a comb through my gorgeous hair and maybe use an un-wrinkling charm on my robes. My eyes moved to meet Pansy's again. "Well, I'm going to go get ready before detention. See ya."

TCB...


	11. Discussions in Detention

Disclaimer: The whole 'gang' doesn't belong to me, only the antics they get themselves into in the following chapter...well, I don't think you'd call them 'antics' per se...

Warning: Harry/Draco slash, though it isn't _really_ evident...yet.

Hello thar. This is the newest chapter..well DUH! Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this one, despite the bad title...DW wasn't around for me to consult for chapter titleage.

Lobe Manaka

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Discussions in Detention:

Harry was already seated at a table toward the front of the Potions class when I walked into the room. I offered him a 'friendly hello' - which he ignored! - as I took a seat at the table next to his, so that we were close but still separated, and eyed his appearance. His hair was mussed far beyond what it had been earlier, with stray hairs sticking up in awkward angles. I felt an urge to kill the Irish boy when I thought about just _what_ had been done to Harry to make his hair stand up like _that_. Stealing a glance at his robes, I began to mentally put together a list of ways to torture Finnigan. No, they weren't wrinkled or anything that would scream 'I just got through being thoroughly snogged', but they _weren't there_! Instead, Harry was wearing a pair of jeans and a tight-but-not-too-tight tee shirt - in my favorite color, too. Although the change in outfit may not scream being snogged, it _did_ scream something along the lines of 'I couldn't find my other robes, so I had to put these on'.

I had just added number 54 - something to do with lots of restraints, a cold dungeon, a blindfold, and dripping water - to the list when Severus strode in, his robes billowing behind him.

"Draco, I regret to see that you are here," he commented as he came to stand at the front of the classroom. I looked up at him while Harry continued to gaze at his hands. "I, however, must see Professor McGonagall's point of view. That was completely immature. As a result, you will have to aid Mr. Potter here in the removal of the potion from the walls, tables, and ceiling. I don't think I have to tell you, Potter, that it must be done by hand, without magic."

"I know, sir," Harry murmured, not taking his eyes off his hands.

"I will return in two hours," Severus said, walking toward the door, turning around again when he got there. "If you are not finished in here by then, I will come back in another two hours." And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Harry and I alone, again.

There was something of an awkward silence as the two of us sat there, making no move toward the cleaning supplies that sat on Severus' desk. I glanced around the room at all the lavender goo whilst Harry found something about his hands even more interesting. With how hard he was staring at them, you'd think they held the secret to life or something equally valuable yet altogether boring. After a moment, he sighed and rose from his seat.

"Well," he said in a resigned voice. "We'd better get started on this if we have any hope of getting done by the time Snape gets back."

I watched as he walked over to the cleaning supplies to pick up a rather Muggle looking spray bottle filled with something that smelled of pine when sprayed and an old and ratty rag that looked as if it was held together with a few well-placed spells. It amused me slightly when he began misting a table with the bottle and wiping the rag over it. Apparently, he had an abundance of knowledge when it came to cleaning. A moment later, he looked up at me with an expression that said that he would greatly appreciate it if I would help. Well, it actually said, 'get up off your lazy arse and help, you git'. Leave it to Harry to know how to motivate someone.

Complying with his expressive order, I rose from my seat and stalked over to Severus' desk, grabbing the rag that was the cleanest - which wasn't very clean - and the second spray bottle. I followed his lead with the spraying then wiping, seeing as how I don't clean too often and needed some instruction. A silence fell over us as we settled into the rhythm of cleaning, keeping it up for at least an hour before I threw my rag on the table I had been working on. Harry, hearing the sound the rag had made in the silence, turned away from the wall he'd been wiping at and looked at me.

"Oh, this is boring," I whined, pulling my wand from the pocket of my robes. After reciting the cleansing spell, all the remaining signs of any explosion disappeared, whisked away to...okay, I don't know where _exactly_, but it's somewhere spacious. How else would it fit everything that is magicked away? "That's better," I said, grinning and turned back to Harry, who wore a shocked expression. "What?"

"Snape said no magic," he answered.

I slid my wand back into the pocket it had come from. Grabbing the cloth and spray bottle from the table, I walked them back to the large desk at the front of the classroom and set them down. "Lest my memory deceives me, which it doesn't, the professor told _you_ not to use magic. Nowhere in his statement was it said that _I_ couldn't use magic. And anyway, it's not like he's going to care, I'm his favorite student."

"But I _know_ he's going to blame _me_ for it," he pointed out, taking his own cleaning supplies back to where they had come from. That was a good point, but not one worth being bothered by.

"Oh well," I said, hopping up to sit on the first table in one of the rows. Not _in_ it but _on_ it. I know, I'm bad-ass. "And no, that doesn't mean I'm trying to get you in trouble. If he finds out, I'll tell him it was me and be done with it. If he protests, I'll tell him where to shove it." Well, no I wouldn't, but it was the thought behind it that mattered. Wasn't it?

"So what now?" Harry asked, acting equally bad-ass and jumping onto the table I was occupying so our knees would touch lightly if either he or I moved in the slightest.

"Well," I drawled. "I see this as the perfect opportunity for a heart-to-heart. I've been having a lot of those lately, and have decided to have one with you. You should feel special."

"Ecstatic," he replied sarcastically. "What's our little 'heart-to-heart' going to be about?"

He should know by now not to ask questions that give me free range of answer, especially when the answer would command the topic of our conversation. "Let's start with what Finnigan whispered to you during dinner, resulting in the two of you high-tailing it to the Tower, where your hair seemed to get extremely mussed and the robes you were wearing seemed unneeded."

"That's none of your business. Next topic."

"No, I rather like the one we're on."

"Too bad, Malfoy. Next. Topic."

"Fine!" Long pause as I thought about things. "You choose."

"Okay. What are you up to? Why the confession?"

Damn it. Obviously I shouldn't allow _him_ free range of questions.

"Well, uh..."

"I'm waiting."

"Shut it, Potter. Next topic."

"But I'm enjoying this one."

I glowered inwardly at the fact that I was so easily pulled into something that I myself had used not five minutes before. "Fine, if you absolutely_ must_ know, it's part of a plan-"

"You bastard, I knew it," Harry interjected angrily. "I can't believe I let myself be tricked to think that your intentions were half-way decent."

"Oh, but you didn't let me finish," I replied. "It's not a plan to make you the laughing stock of the school or even to get you in trouble. In fact, no one knows about it except for Pansy."

Harry calmed visibly at my words.

"Well then, what's this point of the plan?"

"That, Mr. Potter, is a secret, which will be revealed in due time."

"Fine," he huffed, crossing his arms.

"I do believe you are pouting," I commented.

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"_No_, I'm not."

"Potter, you're pouting so deal with it." I nearly jumped from my seat on the table and almost - _almost_ - gave another shriek -er...manly yell - when I heard Severus' voice behind me. "And no sitting on the tables. You might break them."

"Did you just call me fat?" I asked in mock offense as I slid off the table in question.

"No, Draco," my godfather replied. "These old things would break under the weight of a first year. And since you haven't been a first year for six years now, you have a higher chance of breaking it."

"Oh, okay," I said, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. "Just as long as you know I'm not fat."

"Draco, _everybody_ knows you're not fat," he commented. Then he glanced around the room. "The classroom seems clean enough. The two of you can go back to your dormitories now."

"Thanks, Sev," I said, making my way toward the door, Harry following at my heels. "See you later."

When we were out the door, we split to go our separate ways, me toward the Dungeons and him toward the Tower. I had an urge to call out to him, wishing him a good night. It was a harmless urge, so I saw no reason to suppress it.

"'Night, Potter," I called over my shoulder.

I didn't have to be looking at him to know the confused expression that flashed across his visage for what had to be the millionth time that day. Smiling to myself, I continued down the corridor, knowing that he must had been thinking of what I had said in the classroom about plans and due time as he made his own way toward his own dormitory. If I achieved nothing at all today, at least I made him slightly paranoid.

TBC...


	12. Twenty Questions

Discaimer: They belong to JKR, in case you didn't knows, and I don't claim to own them.

Warning...: Harry/Draco slash, even though it may not be evident yet.

HELLO again to my loyal readers!!! I know I take a long time to get the chapters out...wait, since when is a week a long time? Anyway, please enjoy and wait another week for the next chapter.

Lobe Manaka.

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Twenty Questions:

The next morning, Pansy greeted me in the common room as I decended the stairs from my dormitory. Bloody Merlin, she was looking absolutely _chipper_. From the black hair that was pinned back, to the sudtle-yet-bright red nails, to the six inch heels that pushed daily dress code, it was evident that _something_ was going her way. It was never a good thing for her to beam like that; it usually proved to be a bad omen for someone. Pondering about _who_ was going to be at the receiving end of said bad omens, I sauntered over to her.

"And, what, may I ask, is going to happen to some poor under classmen to give you a bright outlook on life?" I asked with a smirk.

"Nothing to any under classmen that I know of," she answered vaguely.

"Oh, so it's going to happen to a seventh year?" It wasn't often that us upper classmen Slytherin pulled anything too big on yet another of our year or older - and if the way Pansy was smiling had anything to do with it, this was going to be_ huge_. However, on the occasions that something _did_ happen to the otherwise protected group, it would make the victim entertain the thought of suicide due to public humilition.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," she replied, backing away toward the secret wall that was the entrance to the Slytherin common room. I followed her...only walking forward instead of backward. It was almost like a dance, a boring and uneventful dance, but a dance nonetheless with our steps mirroring each other's.

Knowing that she wasn't going to tell me out right, I was being forced to play some perverse game of twenty questions. "Okay, uh, is it a boy?"

"Maybe."

"Is it a girl?"

"Maybe."

By this time, we had come to the wall, which slid to one side to allow our exit, and Pansy turned to walk forward, falling into step beside me. As we made our way up the corridor to the waiting breakfast, I continued my questioning.

"Are they in Ravenclaw?"

"No."

"Hufflepuff?"

"No."

It was really redundant to ask about either of those Houses, seeing as how we never did anything to them on account of the fact that we never received the wished for rise from them. Other Slytherins and Gryffindors were the best to prank.

"Gryffindor?"

"Maybe."

"Slytherin?"

"Maybe."

Damn woman. So far as I could tell, it's either a boy or a girl from either Gryffindor or Slytherin. _That_ helps a whole hell of a lot. My next questions would have to help get more information.

"Fine, is it a prefect?"

"Yes."

Oh, they were the _best_ to play around with, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw prefects included. When they were encountered with some dastardly prank, they would go all red and huffy and start shouting at their unseen assailents, promising the worst of the worst punishments. Oh, it was so much fun watching the older Weasley - you know, the poncy Head Boy one - after we dumped the contents of Vince's botched potions over his head as he was making rounds one Friday evening in my third year. His face matched his hair! Merlin, who knew the guy had such a colorful vocabulary.

Pansy and I were the only exeptions to the rule, of course. The other Slytherins knew better than to pull something on us for fear of the physical harm we would bring about personally. Of course, they would never be turned in to the teachers or even another prefect. There was a respect and loyalty about our lot that couldn't be found anywhere else. Well, except for the Gryffindors, who basically followed the same unwritten rules of keeping quiet. Or at least now they do.

Hmm, that narrows the field. Now I have myself, Pansy, Granger, and Weasley to choose from. Now, it can't _possibly_ be either of the first two - one, it's me, and she wouldn't do that and two, it's her, and who goes around pranking themselves? - and Granger is simply no fun to prank because she knows what someone's going to do before they do, so it just _had_ to be Weasley.

"It's the Weasel. Am I right?"

"Maybe."

Pansy reached to push open one large door to the Great Hall, but I positioned myself in front of her, blocking her way.

"Now, Pansy, dear," I said, my voice almost cooing. "We both know it isn't me - that's almost blasphemy - and Granger would be too much of a challenge to succesfully pull something off with, so I'm left with Weasley as a key component in whatever equation that's brewing in your pretty little head."

"Draco, darling," Pansy replied, her voice cooing far beyond what mine had done. "Obviously you're leaving the fact that I'm a Slytherin out of _your _equation."

With that, she pushed past me and into the Great Hall.

I watched her walk over to our House table. So she had Granger in mind, after all. Boy, she had her work cut out for her there. It wasn't going to be easy to...to do whatever she had planned. Maybe I should ask her about it.

Walking in that 'I'm a sexy bastard and everyone needs to stare at me' kinda way, I made my way to my seat next to Pansy. Again, Blaise was a safe distance away, talking pointlessly with Vince and Greg, as well as some sixth year idiot that I never wasted time getting to know. With a motion to throw my robes from me to avoid sitting on them, I lowered myself into the seat, plucking a blueberry muffin from the basket in front of me.

"So, may I know this plan you have for Granger?" I asked. She gave me an almost disbelieving look and shook her head, but not in reply to my question. "It has to be Granger since you more or less said that it wasn't Weasley."

"I'm not telling who the victim will be," she answered, stealing the muffin right from my hand. "And I'm not so sure my partner in crime would like anyone else to know of the plan."

"There's a _partner_ that's not _me_?" I asked incredulously. "Pansy, you are a bitch. Now who is it? It can't be Blaise, Vince, or Greg. Nor would it be any under classmen, they wouldn't appriciate your genius. Millicent is rather...dimwitted as well. Daphne and Tracey are too - oh what's the word I'm looking for - girly, for lack of better term, to go around pranking people. Theo? Maybe, but I couldn't see you pairing up with him willingly."

"Who ever said it was a Sltherin?" Pansy asked innocently, taking a bite of my muffin, the blueberries coloring her lip-sticked mouth violet.

"You have an _inter-House_ scheming partner?" I felt positively scandalized. "And you _didn't_ tell me?"

"Like I say, they wouldn't like it."

"Since when?"

"Last night."

"Okay, is it a boy or a girl?"

"Yes."

"Yes to which? Boy? Or girl?"

"Yes."

"Bitch."

"But you still love me," said Pansy in a sing-song way.

"Only out of necessitiy," I replied in a bitter tone.

"Oh, Dray, that hurt," she came back sarcastically.

"Down to your cold, black heart?"

"Yes."

"Good."

TBC...


	13. Obtaining the Proper Equipment

Disclaimer: The following characters and/or references to any known book do not belong to me.

Warning: Building up to a good ol' Harry/Draco Slash

Hey thar...i think i said that last time...oh wells. Okay, so here's the next chapter - in case you hadn't noticed. You should know, I didn't title it...that's were DW comes in. Thanks love!! Anyway, I hope yous enjoys the next chapter.

Lobe Manaka

* * *

Obtaining the Proper Equipment:

The morning was rather uneventful and boring, due completely to the fact that Harry had no classes with me during that particular time frame. _Noooo_, I'd have to wait until lunch to see the smexy bastard. So I waited. And waited. And waited. I felt like a lion waiting for its prey. Er, not a lion, a snake. Damn, obsessing about a Gryffindor will do things to your mind, not all of which are naughty. Unfortunately. At great length, my waiting finally paid off. The noon hour finally rolled around, unsuspecting of the predatory eyes that watched its approach. When it was close enough, I pounced! To my surprise, it didn't put up a fight, just took my pounce and went along with it.

Fine!! It was less of a pounce and more of me racing from the Charms class as soon as it was dismissed; and I didn't overcome the hour so much as pull possessively at my watch. I can't help it if I try to make an otherwise boring day sound more thrilling.

Now, I may not have been the first student to lunch, but I was the first of any importance, which wasn't very hard, given that there's only a miniscule group of 'important people'. My seat was waiting for me just as I had waited for noon. Hopefully it wouldn't pounce when I neared. Oh, that would be a sight. I can see the headlines now: _Draco Malfoy, Son of Lucius Malfoy, Struck Down By Bench_. Now _that_ would be amusing, but only if your name wasn't mentioned in said headline. Thankfully, the bench made no move, even as I sat down. Breathing an unnecessary sigh of relief, I drew a platter of diagonally cut ham sandwiches toward myself and removed two triangles to place on my own plate.

I picked at the crusts of my sandwich halves as the rest of the student body began to flood the vast room, each taking their preferred seat at their House table. Slowly, oh so slowly, the tables began to fill, but Harry remained to be seen. Weasley and Granger entered, arguing over something or another, only pausing to sit and pluck their own lunches from the platters in front of them before continuing on their argument. I kept my eyes glued to the doors, waiting for the moment when Harry would enter. But it never came. He never entered the Hall for lunch.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered that someone had plopped down next to me. Knowing that it had to be Pansy - since no one else dared to occupy the seat next to me - I turned so I could complain.

"Pansy," I whined. "He's not-"

I quickly shut my mouth when I realized that the sight that greeted me was _not_ Pansy. This fucker had the audacity - or the stupidity - to sit in her seat. Well, just glancing at him, I _knew _that it was most certainly _not_ audacity.

"Who's not what?" Theodore Nott asked.

"None of your business," I sneered. "Obviously the comment was meant for Pansy."

"Okay," he shrugged, reaching for a triangle of sandwich.

"Speaking of which, why are you in her seat?" I asked, ripping one of my own triangles in half.

Theo, who had just taken a bite of his own sandwich, finished chewing before answering. Thank Merlin for that, too. It's such a plebian thing to talk with your mouth full. No Slytherin should be caught doing something plebian. Ever.

"She asked me to tell you that she was going down to Hogsmeade during lunch and might be in late. Said she had something to pick up."

"And she told you to tell me instead of just telling me during class herself?"

"Well, she said that she forgot to tell you earlier and you bolted right after Charms was dismissed."

I sighed. He had a good point. I was out of the class before Pansy could even call after me. Pushing down the pang of hurt for that fact that she didn't bother to at least find me before she left, I scanned the Great Hall again, looking for Harry. This time, I found him. He was seated next to Finnigan again, but the Irish boy wasn't talking to him. Instead, he was chatting pointlessly with Weasley, who was pointedly ignoring Granger at this point. With a smile on his face, Finnigan nudged Harry in the ribs with an elbow, causing Weasley to grin at Harry and Harry to turned an interesting shade of red. Then, he resumed his conversation with the freckled boy with a grin on his face. What was he telling the redheaded git? What was so bloody funny? And what did it have to do with Harry? Then, the ginger oaf looked at me. It wasn't a 'oh Merlin, Malfoy's such a prick' kinda look, no, it was a 'oh, that's kinda sickening, yet funny, in a strange way' kinda look. Almost like he knew something I didn't. What the hell could that mean? _Then_ the bastard had the audacity to smirk at me.

_No one_ smirks at a _Malfoy_! _Malfoys _smirk at _everyone_.

"Now, what did that poor thing do to deserve such a horrible end?" a cooing voice asked behind me. I spun around - well, as far as a sitting position will allow - to find myself looking up at Pansy. She merely smiled, taking the seat that Theo had obviously just vacated. "So, what did the sandwich do?" she asked again.

"_It_ did nothing, I simply needed something to take my anger out on," I answered, slightly huffy.

"So, what made you mad?" Pansy asked, grabbing an unharmed sandwich from the platter. After removing the crusts with painfully pink nails, she bit into the corner. Wait, when the fuck did she have time to repaint her nails? That woman is talented if you ask me. But you didn't, so we're moving on.

"Well, to start, it was that you weren't here." I glared at her, hoping it would convey the heat of said anger. "Then, it was that Harry hadn't come to lunch too - well that might have been first since I didn't notice your absence 'til that happened. Anyway, then I was mad that I couldn't whine at you. The anger went down some when I saw Harry, but then I saw that Irish man whore telling the ginger oaf something. They had to be talking about me, and it couldn't have been good, because he smirked at me. I am so pissed right now, you have no idea."

"Oh, I think I do," she commented. "And I think I have _just_ the thing to assuage your bitter loathing emotions."

"Malfoy's don't have emotions," I replied. "We have anger."

"Well then," said Pansy as she reached down into her book bag. "You must be your mother's love child without a drop of Malfoy blood in you because you've had a whole myriad of emotions lately."

"Are you accusing me of being an illegitimate bastard?"

"No, love," she answered, setting a bag on the table between us. "I'm just saying that it's human to have emotions other than anger."

"Fine, I'll concede this one to you. Just this once. And only because I want to know what's in the bag." I have to admit, my ill concealed curiosity was enough to kill all the cats in the castle. The mysterious bag was plain black with a bright blue symbol on the two larger sides. The symbol was relatively simple yet seemingly complicated with multiple lines and triangles dissecting a single circle. It reminded me of an ancient rune.

"Well, seeing as how I got them for you, I guess it's only right that you take a look."

I'm not the type that needs to be told twice. Well, except if it's a direct order, or if it'd just be fun to rile the one giving the directions.

Upending the back, I spilled two long, slim wood boxes onto the table in front of me.

"Hey! Those could have been breakable!" Pansy yelled at me.

"Are they?"

"No."

"Then I don't see the problem."

She glared at me; I didn't have to look at her to know that much, since I could feel her eyes boring into the side of my head. I ignored her in favor of finding out what the foot long boxes held hidden away. Opening the first one, I found myself face to fabric with a folded fan set snuggly into red velvet.

"Merlin, it's beautiful." It was a whisper, not meant to be spoken. Thankfully, Pansy was the only one to hear.

"Wait 'til you see what it looks like open." With that, she plucked the fan from the velvet and, with a flick of her wrist, opened the fan before my eyes. If I thought it was beautiful before, now it was downright breath taking. White, almost sheer fabric lay over an ivory skeleton and dark crimson lace trimmed the arch of the fan, from the first ivory 'bone' to the last. The crimson continued down every bone except the very middle two, leaving room for two equally crimson lions to stand face to face with each other, rearing back as if about to attack.

"Pans, this is absolutely lovely," I said.

"Open the other." She grinned at me, fanning herself with the lion fan.

After opening the second, I found it to be similar to the first, but only in the fact that it was an almost sheer white stretched over an ivory skeleton, and the lace was laid out in much the same pattern. The color of the lace, however, was a deep, emerald green; and two ready-to-strike emerald snakes replaced the lions.

"You seemed kinda interested in the fan aspect of our little lesson last night, and I knew just where to get a couple," Pansy offered in explanation.

"Thanks, Pans," I replied.

"Yeah, and I wanted to get you something as an apology for the whole not telling you this morning, and for however long it takes to take this plan to term," she continued.

"Does that mean you're going to tell me the name of your partner or at least the victim?"

"Nope."

"Damn. Well, it was worth a try."

"Sorry, Dray, but it wasn't worth the try, and never will be," responded Pansy. "You'll know the names of both by the end of the plan. Promise."

"Fine," I sighed, giving her good reason to think I was done with the matter.

"Thanks, Dray. You have no idea how hard it is to keep secrets from you."

And she took the bait! Just because I won't be asking _her_ does not in any way mean I won't find out another way. Plus, the black turtleneck and trousers I wear while sneaking around look absolutely fabulous on me.

TBC...


	14. Secrets and Innuendos

Disclaimer: If you hadn't noticed yet, they belong to JKR, and not to me.

Warning: For those that need a reminder...I'm not gonna give it to you. Muhahahahahahahah!

Here is yet another chapter titled by my DW. She is awesome, isn't she? Yes.

(Checks calender) Has it been week yet? I don't knows, i don't remember when I last updated...I think it's been a week. Oh well, if not, then I think it's early, so you're lucky. You get to read my longest chapter to date. Yeah, it's what, five or six paragraphs longer? On a good day. So I hope you like it, 'cause I doubt there'll be another long one until...oh wait, I can't tell you 'cause that would give away the good parts. Excuse me whilst I laugh diabolically. If you hadn't noticed, i love that word.

Anyway, thanks to those of you that review. I really like to read those and feel all happy with myself and marvel at the fact that some people think I can write. Good, no less. And with a halfway decent plot. Do keep it up. And to those who don't review...start. It would make me giddy beyond imagination and the story may begin to get better.

Hope you enjoy,

Manaka.

* * *

Secrets and Innuendoes:

For the rest of the day, my new pair of fans sat in my book bag, where they were safely hidden from prying eyes. However, every time I had to get into the bag for one reason or another, I would run a finger over the soft sheer of the fabric. And I found as many reasons I could do get into the bag. Twice in Double Ancient Runes, I had to retrieve a new quill. In History of Magic, my parchment was too crumpled or too full of scratch marks to be of any use to me. I don't recall any other time when my book bag was opened that often during one class.

When class was finally over, Pansy walked with me down to the dungeons to work on the thirty-inch scroll we had to have done by Friday for Ancient Runes. Pansy energetically agreed with me when I suggested that the old witch had some sort of a sadistic side, forcing us to do such a long essay in such a short amount of time. Not that we'd have any trouble finishing the damn thing that night, or anything.

When we finally came to the Hidden Wall, and Pansy muttered the password, I was all but ready to sit for a long period of time to work on the annoying homework. However, that's exactly what happened in the end.

Pansy and I sat cross-legged across the coffee table in front of the fire in the common room, text books open, quills frantically scratching against the parchment, having to be re-dipped every once in a while, and fans forgotten in the confines of my book bag.

This was the only reason why I hated maintaining perfect grades. I could live with being a know-it-all; I could live with everyone - in Slytherin - coming to me for help with homework; hell, I could even live with the embarrassing praising from teachers. What I didn't _want_ to live with was the countless hours of my free time spent in the common room, up to my elbows in text books and reference books, trying to maintain that image and those grades.

Finally, I scratched the ending word of my essay and punctuated it. Pansy did the same moments later. Gracefully, I rose to my feet, offering a hand to Pansy when my legs stopped threatening to give out under me. As she rose -less gracefully, mind you - she smoothed her skirt with one hand.

"Hey, Dray, what time is it?" she asked, stretching languidly to resume the blood flow to her extremities.

I glanced at my watch. "Another fifteen minutes to curfew." We skipped dinner unintentionally, but neither of us was too bothered by that fact. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason. Just need to meet with that partner to set the next phase of the plan," Pansy answered, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'll need to leave in five minutes."

"Fine, be that way," I replied. "Uh, I'm going to bed. Have fun, Pans."

"I will." With that, she set to cleaning up her parchments and writing supplies. Backing up, ever so slowly, I watched her as I made my way to the door leading to the boy's dorm. If she saw me, she would probably think that I was up to something, the way I was acting cautious and so obviously suspicious.

After what felt like the length of the Quidditch pitch, but was actually only about ten feet, I felt the cool wood of a door pressing into my back. I grabbed the latch and yanked, disappearing into the stairwell before Pansy could look up.

Five minutes was all I needed to be clothed in my black cashmere turtleneck, fitted black cotton trousers, and charcoal dragon hide boots that don't make sound on stone flooring. How convenient, you say. In response, I say... WELL DUH!! Why else would I have chosen them over the boots I usually wore that echoed a sonorous _thud_ with every step?

Yeah, that's what I thought. Even you'd choose the more practical pair of boots. Not that I'm gonna let your grubby Muggle hands anywhere _near_ my boots.

Damn it! I'm digressing again!

As I silently slid out the door into the common room, I saw Pansy exit out the Hidden Wall. With everyone either sleeping or getting ready for bed up in their appropriate dorm rooms - or I hoped they were in their appropriate dorm rooms - I had no reason to fear anyone noticing me as I slipped out into the corridor only moments behind Pansy.

When curfew fell over Hogwarts, most all of the torches would dim or go out completely, leaving minimal light for prefects and teachers doing their nightly rounds. However, this same lack of light allowed roaming marauders to disappear into the shadows with an ease that couldn't be accomplished during the day. It also created contorted and almost frightening shadows to be thrown across the stone of the floor and walls.

Slipping from black shadow to black shadow, I followed Pansy at what I thought was a safe distance - a good twenty feet behind her. Many times, I thought I had lost her when she turned a corner or stepped into a concealing shadow, only to reappear in my line of visions minutes later as she passed under a moonlit window or reemerged in the dim torchlight. Following her was like trying to find the Snitch, I was never really sure where she was or where she was going, and I only caught a faint glint of moonlight shining off her hair every once in a while.

After she turned down a dark corridor near the Charms classroom, I had completely lost her. I waited for her to reappear like she'd done before, but she never did. I was left to either wait around until she came into view again or walk down the corridor in search of her. Well, the decision wasn't hard seeing as how I have no patience to sit around and wait.

I prowled the corridor, keeping an eye out for any sign of movement or hint of life. However, as I came to the end of the corridor where it formed a 'T' with another hallway, I remained un-rewarded by neither. Sighing heavily, I leaned back against the stone wall, deciding to wait a moment to see if she showed her two-timing face. After only a moment, I was granted the beautiful sound of shoes on stone. The reverberations were coming from one of the arms of the 'T'. _That's odd,_ I thought to myself, _I didn't think she had gotten _that_ far from me._

Remaining in the shadows, I peered round the corner, trying to catch a glimpse of either Pansy or her mysterious partner. What met my eyes was neither of above; instead, I caught sight of my godfather stalking down the hallway, wand held out in front of him, tip lit and guiding his way. He never liked to find students out of bed and would always take points and/or give detention. Slytherins were usually exempt from his punishments, but there was the rare occasion when he would be ill tempered due to a _really _hard day or lack of sleep the previous night. Today, I knew that he'd had a _really_ hard day, which started with a first year spilling half of his ingredients cabinet onto the floor and ended with having to substitute for the fifth year Care of Magical Creatures since the giant was busy with escorting duty for some dangerous animal. Given the circumstances, I thought it a relatively good idea to remain hidden from view until he passed, hoping that with any luck he wouldn't see me.

_Don't notice me...just walk right on by...nothing to be found here._ I hoped that if I repeated the mantra over and over in my head, it might come true and it seemed to be working; Severus walked right by me, never once catching a glimpse of my tell-tale silver locks. When he was what I thought to be a good distance from me, I let out a sigh of relief. Almost instantly, he pivoted on his heel, waving his wand like a sword. Instinctually, I sank back into the wall, trying my damnedest to melt into the stone behind me, trying all the harder as he slowly strode up the corridor toward me. Before I knew it, he was only five feet from me.

Suddenly, Severus kicked at the foot to a suit of armor closest to my hiding spot. A scared rat scurried from the toe of said foot. Seemingly satisfied, Severus spun silently and stalked away stoically. This time, I waited for him to round the far corner 'til I sighed my relief and begun to peel myself from the safe haven of the stone wall. I walked a few feet into the open and began dusting myself of the minute particles that formed a thin film over my black outfit, I heard yet another pair of shoes clomping down the hallway toward me. This time, however, the sound came from the corridor I had originally come from.

It _had_ to be Pansy. There could be no other person: prefects were done with their rounds by this time and the patrolling teacher had just disappeared down a different dark corridor. I knew that I couldn't hide because I seemed to move right into one of those few and far between junctions that was bathed in the warm, dim torch-light, and my hair would reflect the flickering flames, all but yelling my position. Instead, I just held my stance, waiting for her to emerge from the shadows. But she never did. And neither did the footsteps, which stopped just beyond the ring of light.

"Malfoy, are you sneaking around in black like some sort of cat burglar?"

My heart did a weird little skip as my stomach fell to the floor when the deep voice rang against the walls and Harry stepped into the light with a mischievous grin spread across his face and one eyebrow quirked in amusement.

"You can bet your arse I am!" I exclaimed, striking an almost menacing pose with my hands on my hips and raising my chin ever so slightly to the right. Harry laughed.

"Why would I bet my arse?" he asked. His mischievous grin made another appearance and he crossed his arms over his chest. "It's not worth a whole lot. Even to a sneaky cat like yourself, Malfoy."

I really don't think he knew how false that statement about the value of his arse was.

"Now, I know that I can be easily compared to a cat, Potter," I claimed. "But, I'd like to see a cat do half the things with their tongues that I can."

Harry laughed again.

"That'd be an interesting day when I compare your lingual skills to those of a cat. Though, I think you'd win hands down; cats have sandpaper-like tongues," he replied, gesturing toward his mouth with his index finger.

Oh, if we kept up with the cat-related innuendos, there was no way I would get to sleep tonight without first casting a few - dozen - privacy charms on my bed. Sighing, I asked, "What are you doing here, Potter?"

"Better question, Malfoy, is what are _you_ doing here? It's awfully far from the Dungeons."

"Taking a midnight stroll," I answered, crossing my arms over my chest in a protective manner. Damn it, I couldn't help it, the cat-related comments kept popping into my head and damned if they would stay there. "Cats are allowed to do that every once in a while, aren't they?"

"I guess, but you might be caught. Points could be taken," he pointed out. I didn't think it too important to mention that I was an inch from doing just that. "I would hate to think of a poor, helpless kitten such as yourself in some pound somewhere with all those big, mean dogs picking on you."

"Hey! I'm no kitten. I'm a bloody minx! FUCK! No, I'm a lynx...I'm a bloody lynx! I'll rip you to pieces!" I caught myself, then continued. "And the only dog I see that would be mean to me is you. In fact, I should take points from _you_ since I'm a prefect and caught you out after curfew."

"Ah, but you wouldn't," he replied, grinning.

"And what makes you so sure I won't?" I truly wanted to know how well he thought he knew me to think I wouldn't take points from his precious Gryffindor House.

"'Cause you love me," he answered innocently, his bottom lip jutting out just so to make it look like he was pouting. Even his eyes reflected innocence in the torchlight. Damn he looked so positively edible. And to top that off, he had the gall to assume that I'm such a plebian to mix my private and prefect lives.

"Fuck you, Potter," I snapped.

"I'm sure you would love to, but I really must be returning to the Tower," Harry said, his mischievous grin back in place. I was shocked into a speechless state - now that's a rare occurrence - as I felt the heat of a blush creep up my neck and spread across my pale face. Seeing this only made him grin wider as he stepped past me to continue down the hallway opposite the one Severus had made his own exit. As he disappeared down the dark hallway, I heard him call back, "Nice chat, Malfoy."

Damn it, in less than five minutes, I had gone from totally on watch to completely paranoid. Thank Merlin he wasn't a Slytherin or I might have been slightly worried that he was plotting something diabolical of his own.

TBC...


	15. Stradegy be Damned

Disclaimer: Of course I know that they don't belong to me, as should you...

Warning: ...it will be evident, in like...I don't know how many chapters..but soon...

I give a grand thanks to all of those who reviewed. And I know I promised the chapters would get better, but I dont' konw about this one...so you be the judge...just not the jury and exicutioner. Please and thankyou.

Anyway, this be the next chapter in case you hadn't noticed, and it be good, just not grand, yet...

Hops you enjoys...

Manakassss

* * *

Strategy be Damned:

"So," Pansy drawled at breakfast the next morning. "Have a good night's sleep?"

I'm not exactly sure how, but she knew that I was out of bed and followed her the previous night. I don't know where she gets her information, but it's always right; like right before Valentine's Day last year, she was the only one not surprised by the rumor that spread like wild fire, claiming that Professors Snape and Telawney were intimately involved. No body, however, believed such rumors to be true. Unfortunately, the Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth year Potions students - mind you, I was included in this - walked in on one very 'intimate moment' between the two teachers just before class and learned just how true some rumors could be...and to never use anything on Severus' desk. Took me two and a half weeks before I could even look at my godfather again, let alone talk to him. The 'incident' also taught me to trust in Pansy's 'women's intuition' a little more often.

"Yes," I answered, picking raisins out of my morning muffin. "Now that you mention it, I did. Thanks for asking." The added sarcasm was not lost on Pansy where it would've been on Blaise who was again seated with his new best friends.

"You know, it's funny," said Pansy idly, biting into her marmaladed toast. "If you really put your mind to it, you could find out who I met with last night."

"If I can figure it out, then why not tell me?" I suggested, picking at another raisin.

"Not gonna happen."

"Merlin, you can be a real bitch sometimes, you know that?"

"Fine, I guess you don't want the latest info," she said in a melodramatic tone, taking another bite.

Damn witch, she knew I liked gossip and she was using it as a weapon. Now_ that's_ low, even for a Slytherin.

Despite the abhorrence of her tactics, I turned to her and clasped my hands together around my muffin, as if to beg.

"Oh, Pansy darling, you are the nicest, sweetest, prettiest woman I have ever seen. I love you more than anything and you are the love of my life," I doted.

"Now, Dray, it won't help your case if you continue to lie to me," she informed. "But I'll tell you anyway, 'cause you said I'm pretty." Here, she paused - I'm assuming for effect. "Okay, the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match has been switched with the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw match for reasons unknown to me. Now, I'm sure I don't need to tell you that would move the Gryffindor match to this Saturday. So, in order to gain some more practice before the match, their captain has scheduled them to have the Quidditch pitch for Thursday - tomorrow. Since Ravenclaw was scheduled to play anyway and practiced last on Sunday, they won't be practicing during the week."

"And that's interesting how?" I asked, finally taking a bite of my now raisin free muffin.

"Set into motion whatever seduction plans you may have?" Pansy suggested with a non-committed shrug.

I stopped mid-chew, running through the mental list of what was next to come. I had done the diabolical planning; I had done the detention; I even did the 'play nice with others' thing; hell, I went on a little 'excursion' that wasn't part of any plan what-so-ever; however, I couldn't for the life of me remember the next bullet on the list. What the hell was it? I know it had something to do with seduction, like Pansy said, but I couldn't remember the details. GAH!! I knew I shouldn't have burned the physical evidence!

"Uh, I don't know what comes next," I confessed. She looked at me as if I had just claimed the largest, most sinful blasphemy to be spoken in the century. "What? I thought that if I kept the list around, I would be found out, so I burned it."

"Draco, you sweet, paranoid dipstick," Pansy cooed, pulling me into a warm embrace after setting the toast on her plate. "How the fuck would anyone other than the two of us be able to decode that thing?"

She was right - _again­. _I had used either abbreviations or pseudonyms - or in some cases, both - for everything and everyone involved with the plan, so no one outside our dynamic duo would know what the hell they were looking at. Harry had been recorded as 'loo'. Oh, Merlin, need I explain everything? Harry -(last name)- Potter -(teasing name)- Potty -(another name for water closet)- loo. See my reasoning now? Good. Moving on. Certain parts of plans were recorded with odd names: McGonagall giving me detention - Scottish Resistance; Severus giving Harry detention - explosion in the loo; talking in detention - conversations with the loo; and etc. All of the above could be abbreviated at any point as SR, EitL, CwtL, and ect. Anyone who did get a hold of it would merely think I was clinically insane and should be sent to St. Mungo's.

"What do I do now?" I whined into her shoulder.

"Well," she said. "Can't you come up with some sort of new strategy? I mean, it can't be _that_ hard."

"But it _is_ that hard," I complained, drawing myself out of her embrace.

"When did you want the seduction to be finished?" Pansy asked before picking up her toast again.

I had to think about that for a moment. From what I could remember, everything was supposed to be said and done by Sunday at the very latest. I even had a whole week's worth of plans written up that would ensure Harry's lust if not his affection. Now I was back to square one, or square one and a half: I had no plan, but at least he wasn't as hostile toward me nowadays.

"Sunday, or before hand, if at all possible," I answered.

"Okay, so maybe you should plan something during his practice tomorrow," she suggested.

"Like?"

"I don't know. Maybe...uh, wait for him in the locker rooms afterwards, stark naked or something. I'm sure _that_ would get his attention."

"Yeah," I agreed. "But I'm _not_ going to stand in there with all those Gryffindorks bustling around whilst I've not a stitch on."

"Okay," she said, drawing out the second syllable as she pandered. Waiting for the wonders that would emit from her mouth, I took another bite of my muffin. "Well, if it's any help at all, I'm told that he takes his showers last, after everyone else has left."

Swallowing the muffin in my mouth, I threw the remnants of said muffin at her, but without much damage. It merely bounced off her shoulder and fell to the floor, leaving crumbs on her sleeve. "Of course that would help!"

"So what's the strategy?"

"Hell if I know! I think I'm gonna wing it."

"That's quite the plan."

"I know, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

TBC...


	16. Do All Women Have the Intuition Thing

Disclaimer: I am aware that they dont' belong to me, as should you be.

Warning: Slash...Harry and Draco

Well, hello there, again. I really dont' know what to say at the moment...so I'll just say: let's get on with the show.

Enjoy, Manaka

* * *

Do All Women Have The Intuition Thing:

The first class of the day was Advanced Astronomy. I always wondered exactly _why_ they would schedule a class dealing with the advanced study of stars and space during the morning while the standard level met at midnight; it made no sense. Or not to me at least. The old fogy must have had _some_ reason for placing the course in that time slot.

Since it was such an odd class, and most were turned off by Basic Astronomy, the advanced class was put together by all four Houses, and only consisted of a small handful of students, despite. I was the only Slytherin and Granger seemed like the only Gryffindor. Only a few Hufflepuffs opted for the class, and the other half dozen students were Ravenclaws. So, all in all, it was a rather uneventful class. Or so I thought.

I was far from the first student into the Astronomy Tower - ever - but I was normally present and accounted for long before Professor Sinistra waltzed in. Today was no different. When I entered, the Abbot girl and her friend, Bones, were already sitting in adjacent beanbags, chatting and giggling about some new rumor they'd heard. Boot was in his usual corner - well, I don't know if you'd call it a _corner_, per se, seeing as how the tower was circular in shape - scratching away at a piece of parchment. One Patil twin - I never know which is which, but it most certainly was _not_ the Gryffindor, I know that for sure - was going over notes from one subject or another with Turpin in another un-corner corner of the room. Lastly, Finch-Fletchley was seated in the old, tattered chair I had used during the midnight rendezvous. I veered to the right slightly and ascended the stairs leading to the iron catwalk-like level of the tower, where I usually found a squishy beanbag chair for myself to recline. From my vantage point, I could look over all the other students as well as listen to the teacher's lecture. It was about as secluded as one could feel during a class. As I came to the top of the stairs, I realized that someone had already taken my bean-bag, and was using it to read an old and battered book that looked suspiciously like _Hogwarts, A History_.

"Granger, I would greatly appreciate it if you would remove your arse from my seat," I said in a polite tone.

She didn't even raise her bushy head, nor did she pause in her reading. The girl merely flicked her wand - which appeared out of Merlin knows _where_ - and an identical beanbag chair popped into existence right next to the stolen one.

"That's not what I meant," I commented even as I slid my book bag off one shoulder and took the conjured seat.

"Oh, I know exactly what you meant, Malfoy," she replied, closing her book on her lap. "But I find that I'm rather partial to sitting up here today."

"And why is that?" I asked.

"Because an interesting little tidbit of knowledge struck me Monday," Granger informed me. "It seems that Harry is protecting a Slytherin."

"Oh?" I asked, feigning disinterest. "And that effects me how?"

Granger opened her mouth to answer, but was stopped short as the professor shut the door with a loud _thud_. Everyone averted their attention from whatever they were doing to her as she took her place in the middle of the room. She had an air about her that almost demanded you to shut up and pay attention, much like Severus does, but hers isn't so threatening as his. No, her air was more kind than his. It may have something to do with the fact that her features were warmer and softer, and her eyes and hair aren't black, but dark green and an almost chocolate brown. It's not often that you find women with big brown eyes like that.

"Today," Sinistra called to us. "We will look at a mystery that Muggle scientists are baffled with."

Instantly, almost a dozen quills were fetched and parchments retrieved. When the silence was re-established, the professor went into a detailed discussion about a massive hole in the universe. She explained that it wasn't the first found, but it was by far the largest, measuring multiple light-years wide and billions of light-years in volume. Nothing could be found in the hole, not event the dark matter that filled every other corner of the universe. Almost the whole hour was spent jotting down notes and recording her lecture.

"I'm going to want an essay on the potential causes of such a hole. Both magickal and non-magickal," she concluded. "Twenty inches plus bibliography. I want at least four textbooks to act as your sources. If you contact an astronomer or a Muggle scientist, then that can replace one source. It will be due Friday."

That was another on a small list that she had in common with my godfather: she was a homework-Nazi. Merlin, why would someone use the term 'Nazi' for anything? It seems so...poncey. The phrase 'hotsy, totsy Nazi' comes to mind whenever I think about it, but I can't for the life of me phathom why. Anyway, back to Sinistra's homework-Naziness. She was always assigning essays of unbearable length and setting unreasonable due dates. Oh well, today's homework would be easy, all I had to do was blame the damn hole on the Dark Lord and be done with it.

"Oh, and if anyone blames this phenomenon on You-Know-Who," she added as an after thought. "I will fail you immediately. When he was alive, he never seemed to take any interest in the workings of the deep reaches of space."

The Hufflepuffs groaned. The Ravenclaws looked almost haughty and that they hadn't even _thought_ about such a scapegoat. Granger merely shrugged in my peripheral vision. Outwardly, I remained indifferent. Inwardly, though, I groaned with the Hufflepuffs.

"You may have the rest of the class to discuss," Sinistra said, removing herself to a little alcove that acted like the teacher's desk, of sorts.

No one, and I repeat, no one, discussed the gaping hole in some secluded part of the universe that no one, let me repeat, NO ONE, cares about. The lot of the students on the floor below went back to what the teacher had interrupted at the beginning of class. Subsequently, Granger chose that moment to turn to me and continue the conversation she had started, picking up as if the class had never interrupted her.

"It effects you, Malfoy, in the way that _you're_ the Slytherin that Harry seems to have deemed fit to protect," she explained, pushing a clump of bushy locks off one shoulder. "He never told me, but I know that it was you that stole my Transfigurations essay. My guess is that you thought it was his and used it to lure him, probably here, around midnight, hoping it would lead to the one thing that students willingly come to the Astronomy Tower for."

I made sure my surprise stayed off my face. But how the _fuck_ did she bloody know about that? I never told anyone other than Pansy about the plan... But she told Blaise and he could have told _anyone_. Shit.

Oh, and she's female, meaning she has the 'woman's intuition' as well.

"I don't know what you mean, Granger," I said, feigning innocence. Merlin, I'm good at feigning shit.

"I do believe you do, Malfoy, so cut the crap," she retorted sharply. Obviously I wasn't good enough. I glanced down at the professor, just to make sure she hadn't gained interest in our conversation yet. "I know that you fancy Harry, and I know that for some unknown reason, Harry seems to feel like he needs to protect you from me. Now the way I see it, _I_ need to protect _him_ from_ you_."

"If he can't seem to protect himself, then I don't see how a _girl_ could do any better," I argued. The fact that I chose the word 'girl' over the term 'mudblood' was not lost on her. "And anyway, it'll take a lot more evil plans for me to think up before he needs to worry about others protecting him. He seems to be doing a damn good job on his own."

"Finally!" she exclaimed. The teacher chided her from her location below us but said nothing more. "We always had to deal with the crazy girls that fawned over him. Now that it's you that's after him, he seems to have found his backbone and decided not to send us in to do the dirty work." _Really?_ "I'm glad he's not acting all scared-little-boy anymore."

"Why do you think he's grown a backbone just because it's me?" I asked.

"I have my suspicions, most of which I'm not gonna share with you," she replied. After a moment, she shrugged with one shoulder. "I don't know, maybe because you're the first boy that's actually come to him with anything like that. I mean, sure, everyone knows that Justin down there has had the hots for him since third year, but he's never acted on impulse like you did. But, hey, that's just one of my many theories."

I had the sudden urge to devise yet another list for Finch-Fletchley.

"That was not impulse!" I got another chide from the teacher for that one. "It was a carefully thought out plan."

"Thought out enough to steal the wrong essay?"

_Touché_.

"Well, okay, that one wasn't _that_ thought out, but I assure you, the new ones are."

"Oh that makes me feel better."

Just then, the bell rang, cutting anything I had to say short. If I were to say anything after that, it would have been drowned out by the bustle of students packing up their belongings. I descended the stairs first and was headed down the spiraling staircase when I caught the chitting and chatting between two girls above me.

"Where were you all class, Hermione?"

"Oh, I was sitting with Malfoy."

"_He's _in this class?"

"Yeah. He sits up on the next level. I'm surprised you never noticed."

"I'm surprised you sat with him. You know, with your ill history."

"Oh, it's okay. I was doing it for the sake of a friend, anyway."

"Oh, alright."

There, the conversation turned to nail polish and romance books. I swear, at one point, Granger said the word fan. How the fuck that happened, I'm not entirely sure.

TBC...


	17. Accusations of Untold Horror

Disclaimer: i own no one, at the moment, most of all, those in the following chapter.

Warning:...We're getting there, I promise

-sigh- Do you have any idea how hard it is to juggle writing, school, tests, and reading? Okay, so some do. This is _almost_ the best I could do with everything going on. I hopes you like it...Omj, you should know, i was this close (holds fingers an inch apart) from reposting a chapter, you lucky chickens.

Enjoy

* * *

Accusations of Untold Horror:

Granger followed me to Double Defense Against the Dark Arts. I mused over the fact that, if this thing with Harry panned out and she accepted me into their group like Pansy would her into ours, the two of us could walk from the Astronomy Tower to our next class together, chatting and chitting like other students between classes. Hell, Pansy might even _like _the thought of another female friend in our group. When we arrived at our destination, Granger only steps behind me, I opened the door and allowed her to enter. She smiled slightly and gave me a small nod as she stepped over the threshold.

As Granger took her seat on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and I headed to sit next to Pansy on the Slytherin side, I noticed that Harry had gotten there early and was talking and laughing with Professor Lupin, who was re-instated after the Dark Lord was defeated and fear didn't run so high among the general populace. The older man darted a quick glance in my direction, looking back to Harry with a broad smile on his face. Harry seemed to ask him something, to which Lupin nodded and clapped him on the back as Harry turned to take his own seat. When he came to his seat, however, he didn't sit. Instead, he scooped up this book bag and walked over to the Slytherin side of the class. Granger watched him stroll over with an almost knowing stare, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. Most students - minus Granger (of course), Pansy (duh), Finnigan (excuse me whilst I seethe), and (to my surprise) Weasley - stared on in confusion; including me.

What the hell did they know that I didn't? Little fuckers.

"Hey there, Malfoy," he said, dropping his bag in front of my desk. Instantly, Pansy grabbed her belongings and walked over to sit next to Granger. Hm, seems like those two get along rather well since the Potions 'incident' on Monday. How did _that_ happen without me noticing? Oh well, guess I don't have to worry about them not liking each other.

"Hi," I replied as he took the seat Pansy had just vacated. "Now, why are you sitting with the big, bad Slytherin when you _could_ be sitting with your little Gryffindorks?"

"Inter-house peace?" Harry tried. "Look, Parkinson is doing it, too."

I glanced over to where Pansy was sitting, having a seemingly interesting conversation with Granger. Their words must had been a smidgen too big, because Weasley was resting his chin in his hand and staring off into space, looking the incarnation of 'bored'...or 'lost'. There was no way in hell he could follow what the conversation was about since I knew for a fact that Pansy would only use her hands like that to make a rather intelligent point. With every wave of a hand, Granger would nod, as if in agreement. At one point, Granger smiled then laughed at what Pansy had told her. Then Granger would mimic Pansy - without all the hand flinging - and Pansy would nod - with more enthusiasm. Pansy made some sort of snide comment and they both laughed. The volume of their laughter jostled Weasley from his space out, which caused him to freak out and pull his wand out of his sleeve. The girls looked at him like he was insane. And I'm not gonna disagree with them.

"Inter-house peace, huh?" I asked as I turned back to face Harry. "You sure you're just not trying to figure out my next plan? Or maybe you're showing Granger over there that you're perfectly able to stand up for yourself?"

"You heard about that, hm?" He grinned as he shifted his gaze to watch Granger. His green eyes remained on her for a moment before they shifted again to look me directly in the eye. After another moment, he answered, "Maybe a little of both."

"Ah, so you wanna find out about the scheme yet you wanna make Granger happy? Good man, Potter. Always thinking of others over yourself," I commented as I leaned over to pull the class text from my bag. As I straightened in my seat, I smirked at him. "Not very Slytherin of you."

"Well, seeing as how I'm in Gryffindor, that would make sense," he said, a smirk gracing his lips that twinned my own. Oh, he should smirk more often. Makes his mouth seem so...edible.

Wow, I'm thinking of him as edible a whole hell of a lot...is that a bad thing?

No, I think that's a _very_ good thing.

Dammit, I'm having a conversation with myself...AGAIN!

"However, I could see you looking out for others, as well," Harry interrupted my internal dialogue.

To that, I snorted. Merlin, I really should quit doing things that go against my Malfoy training. First the slouching, then the talking with 'enemies' and mudbloods, now snorting. Father wouldn't be happy if he were here to see it, but seeing as how he's in Azkaban, I don't see much of a problem from him.

"Hardly," I replied. "I look out for myself only. A prime example: my most current scheme is entirely for my benefit."

"So, doesn't mean there's not a Gryffindor in you somewhere." Harry shrugged.

I pulled away and gasped as if I had just been splashed with scalding water, looking every bit alarmed as I felt. "How _dare_ you say such a thing?"

He smiled and shook his head at me. "I don't see why you're so shocked, everyone has a little of each House in them. Take Hermione for example. She's in Gryffindor, but I could very easily see how she could've been placed in Ravenclaw. Ron... Well, Ron's probably already in his best bet when it comes to Houses. Hell, you would've probably been put in Ravenclaw, too, if you weren't so Slytherin." He paused to rub the back of his head. "What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that even the Founders weren't _exclusively_ what we know them for now. I mean the characteristics of the Houses were most likely the dominant of their Founder's, but that doesn't mean that those are their _only_ traits. Honestly, could you see Salazar being a pompous, arrogant arse _all_ the time?"

"As in Slytherin? Yes." Stupid question.

"Okay, bad example. Well, fine, take Godric. Nobody can be the hero all the time, fucking hard work. Was Helga always so passive and good-natured? I doubt it. And I'm sure Rowena got a question wrong every once in a while. There's a little bit of all four of them in all of us," Harry said.

"That's a scary thought," I mused out loud. When I didn't elaborate, Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at me. "Think about Weasley with a 'little Ravenclaw' in him, as you put it. If she is in there, she's small and ignored."

I expected him to blow-up at me for the blatant insult. I expected him to do physical harm. I expected him to maybe move to his old seat on the other side of the room. At the very least, I expected him to bristle.

What I _hadn't _expected was for him to burst out in laughter. The deep sound reverberated off every wall and echoed in my head, making my nerves hum. I liked the sound of this laughter. In the past, the only laughter I heard was directed _at_ me with the only intention of hurting me. I had never been around him when something struck him that forced him to laugh in such a jovial way. It made me happy that I was the cause of this happy laughter, this time.

"What's so funny, mate?" Weasley called from the other side of the room. Harry's laughter promptly stopped, a direct result of him snapping his mouth shut and attempting to stop laughing at his friend. If the tiny noises resonating from the back of his throat was anything to go by, he was failing, completely and utterly. When he refused to answer the question, Weasley asked, "What? Cat got you're tongue, Harry?"

He broke down first and burst into a bout of raging laughter. With me, it started as a snicker, which graduated into a giggle. Before I knew it, I was laughing out right at the unintentional innuendo as well. Together, our howling laughter bounced off the walls, becoming all the louder. Heads turned toward us then glanced around the room, looking for the source of our hysteria. Through my tearing eyes, I could see Weasley lean into Granger, only to have her smile and shake her head at him. By the time Lupin was calling for the class to start, the two of us were hunching over in our chairs, the threat of falling to the floor very real for us.

"Boys, now am I going to have to separate you?" Lupin asked in good-humor. We shook our heads 'no' since we lacked the ability to breathe at that point in time. "Good, may I start the lesson?" Again, we used a nod of the head to confirm that we would behave... Well, as much as two (ex)rivals could be expected to. "Thank you."

We managed to calm ourselves enough to follow his spiel about dark creatures of the Balkan Peninsula. Somewhere in the middle, when he was just starting on the chimeras and their bloodthirstiness, I nudged Harry with my elbow to get his attention. He glanced at me briefly as if to say I had said attention before returning to his note taking.

"Hey, Potter," I whispered. "So, if everyone has a little of every House in them, then what House would you be in if not Gryffindor? Who vies with good ol' Gryffindor over the possession of Harry Potter?"

He didn't shift his eyes from the parchment in front of him, but merely paused mid-scribble to answer, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

TBC...


	18. Establishing Roles

Disclaimer: If you hadn't noticed, Draco, Harry, and all of their little friends do not belong to me.

Warning: I know, I know. But don't worry, it will be grand Harry/Draco.

Here you go, you slash readers, the very next chapter for your reading enjoyment. I really do hope you enjoy this one...took forever to write properly.

Manaka

'I love chickens, they're so good. They could fly if they wanted to but they're stingy bitches.' DW Spry-Panda

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Establishing Roles: 

Wednesday ended and Thursday began without my noticing. The dream I'd had when the days changed at the strike of midnight was a rather...erm... HOT! I hope that the Harry in my dream will one day be the Harry _out_ of my dream. I would gladly submit to such a dominating Harry, with my wrists bound and whip welts forming on my pale skin. In my dream, his green eyes glazed as he stared down at my prone figure; the orbs burning with lust without being trapped behind glasses. Somewhere, fans entered the scenario, but I'm not exactly sure how. In the back of my mind, I knew they were the reason Harry was in my bed, the reason he was studying me like that through heavy eyelashes. They were what got me from Point A to Point B. When I woke up, I still had that feeling. But what could I do? It's not like the fans were of any use, the size that they were.

"Dray," a soft voice echoed through the early morning air of the boy's room. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey."

"Wha' da hell does tha' mean?" I asked groggily, stretching beneath my notoriously Slytherin sheets.

"You know, I'm not entirely sure," Pansy answered. "I read it in a Muggle book once, and it stuck with me."

"Funny," I commented as I pulled the sheets up over my head. "I never heard you say it before."

Moments later, the sheets were yanked from my grasp, causing me to curl as the cooler air settled over my warmed body. "C'mon, get up, lazy bones. We have to figure out what you're gonna do today, since somebody _burned the plans_."

Her enunciation on the last bit wasn't lost in my tired fog.

"But I don't wanna, mum," I complained into my pillow. "Just five more minutes."

"Draco Malfoy!" Pansy shrieked. Thank Merlin everyone else in the room could sleep through a train wreck and weren't disturbed in the least by Pansy's high-pitched voice. "You will _not_ compare me to your mother…well, she is utterly beautiful and may be considered hot, but that's not the point! The point is that I am _not_ old in any way, shape, or form, and I do _not_ spoil you beyond a reasonable doubt."

"Hey," I defended, throwing a pillow at her head. She caught it and threw it back, hitting me in the chest. "My mother does not spoil me." Pause for effect. "And she's not old. Merely aged to perfection."

"I stand corrected." Sarcasm dripped from her words.

"That's nothing new for you," I said. Pansy glared down at me.

"Draco, I can - and will - make all your plans mean nothing," she threatened, pointing at me with a sun-bright yellow fingernail.

"I love you, too, Pans," I said in a sweet tone. "So, you have a plan?"

"Maybe, but now I may not be so inclined to help," she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Aw, c'mon, you know you wanna help poor, ickle Drakie with his dastardly plans," I cooed, hoping it would ease her into helping.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath. "Fine. But I'll have you know, I have nothing."

I turned my head and moaned agitatedly into the pillow. 'What am I going to do?' was what I had meant to say, but seeing as how my face was buried in my pillow, the words came out very muffled. Luckily, Pansy got the gist of it.

"Well, there's the practice today," Pansy reminded me. "You could do something there."

I thought about it. What _could _I do? I have nothing in mind, I have no imagination, and I have absolutely _no-_ Wait...

"Pansy...?"

"Hm?"

"When does he go into the shower?"

"Not until everyone has already left. Why?"

"I have a plan." This was said in an almost singsong way.

"Oh? And is it a _good_ plan?" Pansy asked, lowering herself to sit on my bed.

"It's positively evil, if that's what you mean," I answered.

"Well, are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Nope."

She scoffed. "And why not?"

"You've got your secrets, I've got mine."

"Touché." She pulled the pillow from my grasp. "Now get up and get ready. I'll be down in the common room." With that, she exited the room.

After a quick - or what's quick for me - shower, the styling of hair, and a new change of clothes, I found Pansy waiting in the common room like she said she'd be. She was seated in one of the deep green, velvet armchairs by the fireplace, painting her nails again. From the look of the bottles being employed, she was taking the suggestion I'd made on Monday and putting it to good use.

"You're right, it does look grand like this," she commented, obviously having heard the door close behind me, since she didn't raise her head.

"You say it like your amazed that I was right," I said, plopping myself down on the arm of her chair. "Now hurry your little arse up, I'm hungry."

"Yes, master," Pansy said, capping the silver nail polish.

I smirked to myself. "As it should be. Now if only I could get Harry to say that."

"I'm sure that would go over well with him." She stood up, blowing lightly on her still wet nails. "I highly doubt he'd bottom for you."

"Who on earth said he'd be the one to bottom?"

"Well, I just thought that if you were the controlling one, that you'd naturally be the top. Even though you scream 'bottom'."

"You don't have to be top to be in control," I informed her. "And I do not 'scream 'bottom''." I even used finger quotes. It was grand. "It's not my fault I'm slender and beautiful. You can blame that on my mother."

"I'll make sure to do that," Pansy said, pushing me in the direction of the Hidden Wall. "Right now, we have to get to breakfast or you'll waste away to nothing."

"Aw, that's sweet of you, looking out for my well being." My tone was filled with a sarcastic sweetness. "As every slave should. I mean, I can't be expected to worry over things, it could give me an ulcer, and then where would we be? I'd be dead and you'd be out of a job."

"You say it as if I get paid for my troubles."

"Oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn't," I commented. "Seeing as how you're a slave and everything. But don't worry, soon you'll have company."

"Really." It wasn't a question, more of a skeptically.

"Yeah. Harry will be my sex slave." Here she swatted at my arm. "What? It would be repulsive to have you fill that role, with your femaleness about you. It's sickly."

Pansy scoffed at me. "Thanks, Dray."

"Anytime, love." I grinned at her as the Wall slid to the side.

TBC ...


	19. Exclusively Slytherin

Disclaimer: (Sigh)...(rolls eyes)...you know, right? Well, I certainly hope so!

Warning: Lmao, I think you'll be somewhat pleased with this.

Sooo, I thought I'd be nice and post this chapter a whole...(checks watch) eightteen hours early; you should be happy. Why aren't you happy!?!?! Oh, the whole 'lack of Harry/Draco' stuff. Welllllzzzzzz, I apologize from the bottom of my cold, black heart for that. But I assure you - okay, I don't _guarantee_ anything - this one will be slightly better. Happy now? No? Well bite me.

Sorry, I'm in a very Dr.Jekyll/Mr.Hyde persona right now...

Anyway..Enjoy!

* * *

And Here I Thought Seduction was Exclusively Slytherin:

The passed without any outbursts from anyone. No one tried to take my seat, no one tried to give me a failing mark, no one tried to give me a present, no one tried to declare his undying love to me. Bloody, it wasn't interesting...yet.

Dinner-time found me sitting with Pansy, who was trying her damnedest to get the newest portion of the plan from my 'pretty lips', as she put it. I ignored her and finished the strange stew the was set out before me. It had an odd flavor; you never really got used to it, but you couldn't help but continue to eat it. Dabbing at the corners of my mouth with a napkin, I watched as the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team left the Great Hall, presumably to trek down to the pitch. They'd be done in an hour or so, that gave me plenty of time to get everything ready.

I smirked to myself.

"Dray, what's so funny?" Pansy asked. "Does it have something to do with the plans you refuse to tell me?"

"As a matter of fact, it does," I replied, pushing the now empty plate from me. She opened her mouth again, to ask something else, I assume. "And, no, you cannot know what said plans are."

"Why not? Don't you love me?" she pouted.

"Obviously not," I answered, nonchalantly as I stood. She scoffed at me. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to get some of that horrendous Astronomy essay done before I go out for the evening."

"Oh, and how long are you going to have to wait for that?" Pansy inquired as she stood too, falling into step with me as I left the Hall, heading toward the staircase that would take us to the Dungeons.

I glanced at my watch. "About an hour. Give or take."

She jogged just ahead of me, then rounded to face me, forcing me to stop. "You _are_ planning something for after practice, aren't you?"

"Well," I drawled. "You _are _the one that gave me the basic idea, so I'm quite surprised that it took you this long to figure that much out."

"Fuck you," she retorted.

"In a non-sexual way, I hope," I shot back, grinning.

She giggled at that. "Of course in a non-sexual way. Can't have you getting sick from my femaleness before Potter has a chance at you."

"That's the spirit," I chirped, gentely pushing her to the side so we could continue down the corridor. When we came to the Hidden Wall, I whispered the password: blood pops. Merlin those are some great lollies.

The hour that I had to sit through passed fairly quickly because of the pointless essay and Pansy's incessent badgering. Finally, the clock struck the awaited hour and I couldn't bolt from the common room fast enough.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team walked out of the locker rooms, laughing and horsing around. Weasley and the Weaslette were jesting with one of the new Beaters, a third year, while the other Beater, a fourth year, was chasing after the Chaser he'd had a crush on. The last Chaser was rushing after the Beater, swearing him bodily harm. I smirked to myself for the second time that day. From the shadows, I watched as the team moved farther and farther away, becoming of less and less help to the Seeker who still remained. With one last glance toward the retreating forms into the darkness, I crept over to the door of the locker rooms.

The sound of running water filled the room as I walked through the door and I was hit by an invisible wall of steam. Movements from the shower room could be heard over the rush of water. I smirked again as I slid farther into the room and began to shed the layers of clothing that adorned my beautiful body. Each article was expertly folded and laid on one of the red and gold striped benches that adorned the locker room. Before I spread my cloak over the whole pile, I pulled two, foot-long objects from the pocket. Now, to wait.

I didn't have to wait long, though. Just as I positioned myself in the very center of the room, I heard the tap shut off. The sound of someone reaching for a towel and drying themselves followed not long after that. I froze in my stance, waiting for him to emerge from the showers. Again, I didn't have to wait long.

Harry rounded the corner, clad in nothing but a towel draped around his waist, and stopped in his tracks and instantly started mumbling. "Tha-...thos-...wha-?"

I flicked my wrists ever so slightly. This did little to improve his current state.

"Hnnn..." was all he managed for a few moments. Another flick of the wrists, and, judging by the way the towel moved in the general area of his groin, I knew that he wasn't going to be saying anything anytime soon.

"Do you think these are too small for a fan dance?" I asked innocently.

That was all it took for him to race back into the showers and throw the tap back on. I smirked yet again as I noticed no steam billowing from the other room.

"Cold shower, Potter?" I called, moving closer to the sound of running water.

"V-v-very," Harry stuttered as I came to the door way. I peaked around the corner so that he could only see my chest if he bothered to look my way. What I saw, however, made my blood run hot through my veins.

Harry stood under a cascade of water, naked, shivering, and quite obviously freezing his arse off. The cold water plastered his dark hair to his scalp, making it appear much more tame than it actually was. From there, the water formed rivers that flowed down his almost naturally tanned skin. They split and reformed many times on their journey down his body, every one of which I followed with my eyes. If it weren't for the fact that he was faced away from me, I would've had a grand view of his - what I'm assuming to be - edible length, but, alas, I had to settle for a delectable view of the curves of his arse. Not that it isn't as edible, or anything.

"You just had to find your way in here naked and armed with fans?" he asked as he shut off the tap once again.

"Well, I wasn't naked when I came in here," I answered, never taking my eyes from the firm rearend. I was a little more than slightly disappointed when he grabbed his towel and draped it around his waist again.

"You know, you can stop staring, Malfoy," he said as he turned around.

"And if I don't wanna?" I asked, hiding my face with the green-laced fan and waving the other at him.

Harry, already pink from his showers, blushed as he stuttered, "Ar-aren't one of tho-those supposed to be..erm...covering your...erm...self?"

"Now, do you honestly think that I am that bashful?" I asked, stepping into the shower room, still holding both fans at shoulder height. "I mean, seriously? Why would I want to hide this perfect body?" I gestured down my own body with the green fan for effect. I watched as his eyes followed the fan.

"You-you shouldn't be..." He paused as the fan was dragged across my upper thigh. "Really shouldn't..." His train of thought slowed as the fan was snapped shut and my hand moved to rest on my hip. "Bad idea..." The train completely derailed itself as he set his gaze on the red-laced fan which was waving precariously close to a certain part of my anatomy.

"What's a bad idea, Potter?" I asked, smirking.

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out, so he quickly shook his head.

"You know, you can stop staring, Potter," I echoed his words from earlier with a smirk.

His train seemed to find its tracks again and he fixed me - or more appropriat, my _face_ - with a look I couldn't quite descipher. "And if I don't wanna?"

I scowled at him halfheartedly and lowered the fans, stalking out of the shower room. Gathering the pile of clothes on the bench and throwing the cloak around my still-bare shoulders, I headed for the door. Wet feet on stone echoed through the locker room as he caught up to me. With a hand on my shoulder, he spun me around to face him.

"What's wrong, Malfoy? I thought that you were trying to seduce me," Harry stated, confusion in his eyes.

"I_ am_!" I exclaimed. "But when I'm turned from the hunter to the hunted, I no longer find enjoyment in that. And that look you gave me said nothing about you being the hunted!" With one last mock-glare at him, I turned on my heel and walked off toward the door. "Thanks, Potter, now I have to come up with more plans!"

"You're welcome, Malfoy!"

TBC...

* * *

(Snickers) Omj, I can see your expressions...I know, you were expecting more out of the locker room scene, but I didn't want the good part to come before the ...well...grand part, so you'll have to put up with my antics for another...few chapters...See you next time. 


	20. Three Slytherins Are Better

Disclaimer: Anything related to HP does not belong to me, but to JKR...Oh I love the use of acronyms.

Warning: HP/DM (snickers)

Sooooo, here's my next chapter...I hope you enjoy.

Manaka

* * *

Three Slytherins Are Better Than One Gryffindor...Hopefully:

I stalked into the Slytherin common room and to the door to the boy's dorm, not even bothering to acknowledge Pansy's yelling as I walked through the common room. As soon as the heavy door of my shared room shut behind me, I shed the cloak, earning myself mocking cat-calls from Theo, who was sitting on his bed, going over the Ancient Runes essay that was due the following day. Ignoring his immaturity, I neatly placed my pile of clothes in my wardrobe and retrieved a pair of green silk pajama bottoms. The drawstring had just been secured around my slender hips when the door burst open and Pansy waltzed in. She didn't even bother to shut the door behind her.

"Pansy! I could've been naked!" I scolded.

"And you're gay, what do you care?"

I shrugged with one shoulder - in _agreement_, not surrender - and walked over to grab a quill and parchment from my book bag. I then situated myself on the green coverlet of my bed to record my nefarious intentions; after all, I can't be expected to come up with a halfway decent Plan C if I had no way to edit it, that much should have been evident with Plan B. I had no intention of ignoring her, so I glanced up at here so she would know that she could continue with the rant that had obviously built itself up behind her blue eyes.

"So, did your little plan work?" Pansy asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Since you kept it a secret up 'til now."

Of course, any mention of 'plans' and 'secrecy' would catch the attention of any self-respecting Slytherin. Okay, so the mention of the above words would catch the attention of _any_ Slytherin, no matter their respectful status. Unfortunately, those who were around to be interested in the subject were Theo, Vince, Greg, and Blaise. Oh, I can't forget the students in the common room that could listen because Pansy had yet to _shut the door_. Oh joy, this was going to be a fucking great conversation.

"Well, not entirely," I said slowly. She raised a questioning eyebrow at me. Damn, now I have to explain. "I went to the locker rooms-" Here, she gave a triumphant 'whoop' "-and _tried_ to seduce him. It was going fine, well, up until he turned predatory on me. It was then that I decided to wait."

"For...?" she urged.

"I don't know... later?" I offered in response. The other boys knew it wasn't a good idea to enter a conversation in which Pansy seemed irritated, so they sat on their beds, watching in odd fascination.

"What the fuck do you mean 'later'?" she bit out.

"Well, according to the dictionary, it means 'at some eventual time in the future'," I recited. I always was one to read the dictionary for fun. Oh, wait, no I wasn't; it was more out of necessity, either do as the tutor said, or get reprimanded for it later. Aha, my new favorite word. "It's fascinating how well that fits my use of the word: I will be waiting until _later_ to set another plan into motion. Meaning: I will be waiting until _some eventual, and undetermined, time in the near future _to set another plan into motion. It's like they're interchangeable."

Pansy scoffed at the sarcasm-laden words. Theo snickered at them. Vince and Greg looked on in confusion. Blaise...well, let's just say, Blaise isn't the fastest broom in the shed.

"Of course they're interchangeable, silly. One means the other," he called from Vince's bed, where he was sitting with the other two boys, a pile of Exploding Snaps cards left forgotten on the coverlet.

Pansy turned to the poor boy, her expression changing from irritated to caring, like when a mother's face changes from arguing with her husband to cooing at her children. Unfortunately, that's the same tone she gets when she speaks to him, too. "Blaise, honey. Why don't you let me and Draco settle this, okay?"

Blaise nodded at her, a smile still plastered to his face. Thankfully, he remained quiet through the rest of the conversation. I wish I could say the same for Theo.

"So, poor Drakie is left without a plan," Theo teased. "That's a first."

"Oh, shut up," I retorted, dipping my quill into the inkpot on my nightstand. "In case you hadn't noticed, I am in the middle of formulating a plot."

"_Another_ plot," Pansy corrected.

"Yes, dear, _another_ plot," I emphasized. "Since someone burned the other plans."

"Weren't you the one who burned them, Draco?" Theo asked, cocking his head to one side in a very feminine way. Merlin, if it weren't for the fact that I knew that he shagged anything and everything with breasts, I would think he was very much gay. There have been one - thousand - too many occasions when I came up to retrieve something from the shared dorm room and found some random girl parading around the room in some state of undress. Sickening. Some part of me thought, however, that he was a little over-compensative sometimes.

"Trivialities," I said in a dismissing tone, with a wave of a hand to match that didn't make me look poncey in the least. "Now does anyone want to help me with these plans?"

Knowing that the Dimwitted Trio would only offer equally dimwitted ideas, I pointedly ignored them and turned toward Theo and Pansy. Theo shrugged and set his homework aside before climbing off his bed, only to plant his arse on the end of my own bed.

"I'm in," he declared.

We both stared up at Pansy patiently. With a very heavy sigh, she plopped herself - inelegantly, I might add - down on the bed. "Fine. You know I can't say no to you."

"Most of the time," I corrected her. "I seem to remember many times in the past two days that you wouldn't tell me the name of your mystery partner."

"Oh, gods Draco! Are you still on about that? And here I thought you were a genius!"

I was hurt. "Of course I'm a genius!! I just can't find out who this person is! Can you blame me?!"

"YES!" she retorted. "I thought for sure you'd get it if you hadn't already gotten it, but no." Another, less melodramatic sigh. "Anyway, you need to put this behind you, 'cause you're not getting it out of me."

I cursed under my breath. "Oh, alright, be that way. Let's just put our heads together and think of a fool-proof plan."

"That may be easier said than done with those three in the room, listening to the conversation," Theo pointed out.

He had a point.

"Vince, Greg. Take your new friend down to the kitchens and get something to snack on, you haven't eaten since dinner," I ordered. Not surprising that they complied, taking a childlike Blaise from the dorm room.

"Okay, any ideas?"

TBC...


	21. Betrayed

Disclaimer: Nope...not mine.

Warning: ...HD and you know it.

(sigh) Whatev...just read. Lobes.

* * *

Betrayed:

I swear the old coot that is our headmaster must have something loose in his head, because he cancelled all classes for today for reasons unknown to the general public. Instead, it would act as a study hall, allowing students to catch up in whatever classes they were behind in. Merlin, the system is set up to bring down those who are smart. I could even see it in Granger's eyes when the announcement was made at breakfast; her face took on a look of utter disappointment. Weasley seemed to be happy beyond description.

After breakfast, Pansy and I sat in the common room, passing the time discussing whatever came to mind.

"So, why exactly do you think he cancelled all the classes?" she finally asked. The plans had already been set the previous night, so there was nothing to go over in that department. I'd already had my Muggle Lesson for the day - a lesson about the nature of this thing called an o-ott-mob…well, fuck it, it was something with wheels - and the bets had already been placed for tomorrow's Quidditch match. Naturally, I had Gryffindor, leaving Pansy to take the Ravenclaw team. It didn't take a genius to know that she had the losing bet.

"I don't know," I replied, flopping myself against the back of the cushy chair I'd been sitting in. "If you ask me, he's a couple broom sticks short of a whole closet."

"Coming from the boy who thinks he can get the Boy Who Lived by some hastily created plans that always manage to fall through," she replied. "If anything, you're as crazy as he is."

"I'm not crazy," I defended. "I'm eccentric!"

"What's the difference?"

"Money," I answered with a shrug.

"Ah, I see," Pansy said slowly.

I opened my mouth to continue our conversation, but it was that moment that a dark haired sixth year decided to plop herself in front of my chair. I exchanged a glance with Pansy as the girl fluttered her eyelashes up at me. Pansy snickered beside me as the girl set a manicured hand on my knee.

"May I help you, Miss..?" I asked.

"Fraiser. Cindy Fraiser," she replied, offering me a lipsticked smile.

"What can I do for you, Miss Fraiser?" I asked again.

At least she had the decency to advert her eyes and blush as she asked, "Well, I was wondering if we could sit together during the game tomorrow. Then, maybe, go down to Hogsmead."

Pansy burst into a fit of giggles. I myself couldn't help but grin at the situation. "Sorry, Fraiser, but I'm already seeing someone."

"Oh," she said slowly, right before she got that mischievous glint in her eye. Around here, we called that the Slytherin Glint, since only us Slytherins seem to be up to anything mischeivous. "Well, maybe afterwards or even during, if you want."

"You're not his type, girly," Pansy stated.

Fraiser turned to glare at Pansy. "And you know what his type _is_, I'm to assume?"

"Well, yeah," Pansy shot back. Her tone seemed to convey that it was quite obvious that she, of all people, would know what my 'type' was.

Fraiser tilted her head to the side and donning quite a nasty look upon her face. "Am I also to assume that _you_ are his type? Because, Merlin knows, he _can_ do better."

Pansy burst out laughing, at which statement, I'm not quite sure. Her laughing got loud and obnoxious, and every time she looked as though she was about to stop, something rekindled inside her and the laughter started again.

The intruding girl ignored Pansy and looked up at me questioningly, her deep brown eyes asking what the hell was wrong with the insane girl laughing in the chair next to me.

"It's just as she said: you're not my type. And I'll have you know, that neither is she," I informed Fraiser. "Now scram and leave me to my peace."

Yes, I do get that my 'peace' involved a hysterical Pansy barking with laughter. But, thankfully, the girl left anyway. Good riddance.

"Oh, oh, Merlin," Pansy gasped, wiping a tear of mirth from one eye. "I haven't laughed that hard since...well since I accused you of liking the Weasel."

Have you ever had one of those whole body shudders? You know, like when someone makes you think about your parents on their honeymoon. Yeah, unpleasant isn't it? Well, you know how that idea starts a shudder that begins at the base of your skull then radiates out to your extremities? Yeah, I got one of those shudders when Pansy made me remember such an unpleasant memory that I'd been _trying_ to suppress.

"Thank you, Pansy dear, for causing that repulsive thought to resurface," I snarled.

"Oh, Merlin, you're welcome, Draco love." She rode out the last of her giggle fit before continuing. "Gods, I can't believe that the news of your quest to bed Potter isn't all over the school."

"Well, there's this little saying," I recited. "'It is only between you and them, therefore the whole school knows.'" She nodded at this. "Now, reverse some parts of that statement. 'It is out for the whole public to know if they so wished, therefore, no one is interested.' The only thing people are interested in during school is spreading others' secrets; and if my situation does not fall in the 'secret' category, then no one's interest has been piqued."

Pansy seemed to think this over for a few moments. "That does seem to be true. I told Blaise only, but you know how he is at telling people everything."

"Dear, he'd have to understand what you were talking about first," I said in a sickly sweet tone.

"Well, that's true. So I guess that it's just our small group that know the whole story - well, that there's even a story to begin with."

"Oh Merlin." A thought had just occurred to me, and I told Pansy that. "Granger's intuition is a whole hell of a lot better than yours, because she completely guessed _everything_ pertaining to the stolen essay. Do you think she'll tell him that I'm forming diabolical plots?"

"She's a loyal friend to him, but she also thinks that there're some things that he needs to do on his own," she said with a shrug. "She seems to see this as an excellent opportunity for him to acquire observational skills."

"I see," I drawled. "Kinda."

Pansy rolled her eyes at me before pointing at my watch. "What time do you have?"

"Quarter to twelve," I answered. "We should probably get up to lunch, huh?"

"Yeah."

The Great Hall was buzzing with excited chitting and chatting about the Quidditch match tomorrow. I recognized Weasley sitting at the center of a ring of people, obviously taking bets for said match. Others were discussing the odds and the possible outcomes, which was essentially unnecessary, since Harry _always_ caught the bleeding Snitch.

Taking our reserved-but-not seats, Pansy and I started another conversation of our own.

"I wonder if he'll be immune to your advances, and your plans will be thwarted, again," Pansy commented, pouring two glasses of pumpkin juice.

"How dare you!" I exclaimed. "My plans are just fine-" she scoffed at me "-most of time."

She rolled her eyes as I took a sip of my drink.

"Dray, you are way too...what's the word I'm looking for?" she asked to herself. "Defensive? No. Well, maybe. I don't know."

"That's right, you don't know," I retorted, taking another sip.

"Whatever, Dray," Pansy sighed. "You know what, how 'bout a toast to failed plans and hopefully successful ones alike?"

"I'll drink to that," I responded, raising my pumpkin juice. With a clink of cups, we each downed our drinks. However, when I attempted to put my cup down, the damned thing slipped from my fingers.

"You okay, Dray?" Pansy asked beside me, reaching out to place a hand on my forearm. I fought to keep my eyelids open, but to no avail. Darkness and drowsiness was closing in from all around me and I had no way to keep it at bay.

"Yeah, 'm jus' kina sle-"

I barely registered her bright blue nails moving to catch me as the darkness engulfed me.

TBC...


	22. Freaky Hybrid Prat

Okay, so I think we've been through all the other stuff enough. Yes, we know that these characters aren't mine. Yes, we know that it's slash. I don't wanna hold y'all up any longer even though that's pretty much what I'm doing writing such long whatnot, but that's not the point here. The point is I'm kinda sorry (just a fraction of a hair) for getting it out like...seven months?...since the last post. I know that by all rights, it should've been in like December, but this is what you got. I must confess...it took so long because every time I went to write, I felt like a perv...and I couldn't write. However, I got over that, and now it's finished. So, without any further ado...here is the final chappie!!

Lobes.

Oh, and by the way, anyone who doesn't like this chapter's title, blame my Heather, because she refused to give me something better. She has agreed to take all the blame. Lol.

Again...lobes.

* * *

Freaky Hybrid Prat:

When I woke, my eyelids were extra heavy. Every muscle in every limb ached with sleep and begged not to be roused from their rest. Attempting to lift a hand to wipe at my weary eyes, I gained an interesting piece of information: my wrists were bound; to what, I didn't know.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. The vision was blurry at first, but it cleared as the moments passed and my eyes focused on my surrounding. Eventually, I realized that the green blur that surrounded me was my bed curtains hanging closed around me. Well, at least I was in my own room.

Once again, I tried to move my immobile hands, and again, I failed. This time, however, I looked to see what was giving me trouble. Tied to both hands at the wrist was a thin silk rope. The other end of each rope was attached securely to the head board. Well, that's disconcerting.

Who in their right minds would drug me, bind me to my bed, and leave me in my room alone?

It took me all of about two seconds to come to a conclusion: Pansy, that woman whore. She just committed the most deadly of sins: she went against a Malfoy. Nobody in their right mind would _do_ such a thing...but she _is_ a Slytherin, I have to take that into account. Well, now I know why she never told me who was on the receiving end of her little 'prank'. Now all I have to do is figure out whom the faceless, nameless partner is.

I wrapped my fingers around the part of the silk rope right above my wrists and yanked on the fabric. No give. So, there was only one conclusion I could come to: magical silk. Fuck. Whoever else was behind this either had to have some awesome connections or a halfway decent allowance; Pansy was always complaining about the price of the magical material.

Despite that I knew I wasn't about to get out of my current predicament, I struggled against my binding – you know, more of a frustration reliever than anything. Each yank neither tightened nor loosened the rope so it was a rather uneventful struggle. Finally, after about only a minute, I gave up. I know, I know, I said before that Malfoys don't give up, but really, can you find any reason at all in that Muggle mind of yours for me to continue? Yeah, I didn't think so.

Sweaty and panting, I slumped against my pillows once again, letting loose with a long string of colorful language, each word more inventive or vulgar than the last.

"Oh, I was wondering when you'd wake up, you lazy sod," someone called from the other side of my bed curtains.

At this point, I could view my situation in one of two ways. On the not-so-bright side, I'm tied to my bed and alone in my room with Pansy's partner in crime. On the bright side, I'm _tied_ to my _bed_ and _alone_ in my _room_ with Pansy's partner in crime.

Slowly and seemingly without provocation, the soft velvet of my curtains drew themselves to the posts of my bed and secured themselves with matching green velvet ties. The sudden change from vaguely dim to overly bright only succeeded in blinding me as I snapped my eyes shut against said light. Squirming, I attempted to hide myself from the offending light. However, seeing as how the silk remained in place and, as such, unyielding, I failed completely and miserably. A soft chuckle filled the air; obviously my captor thought my struggle funny.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked.

The chuckle rang again. "I thought it was evident, now I have to explain it? Fine, I'm here because I obviously wanted to get into your pants."

"Yeah, right," I retorted, opening my eyes to glare at Harry who was seated on the bed across from me. "If you really wanted to get into my pants, you would've taken the chance in the Astronomy Tower. And speaking of which, the whole 'I'm gonna be a damn bastard' didn't score any points either."

"Oh, yeah, that," Harry replied, scratching the back of his neck as he stood, taking a hesitant step toward my bed. "See, I thought you were playing with me, with my feelings."

"Your _what_?" Okay, so the tone wasn't meant to be _that_ taken aback. "What feelings? And when did you acquire them?"

He began to tick something off on his fingers, matching each with another step toward my prone form. One - two - three - four - five - six - "Seven months ago. Now, tell me, when did you realize you wanted to shag me?"

He smirked at me. He fucking _smirked_ at me!

"I'm the one asking the questions here," I sneered. I tried to look even more menacing, but I don't think I pulled it off with the whole 'wrists being bound' thing going on. "Okay, then what changed your mind about my supposed 'I'm gonna turn him into the Boy Who Cried' schemes?"

"Seamus," Harry answered with a shrug and another step forward.

"_Finnigan_?! I thought he was trying to shag you! I even devised a list of tortures!"

"Seamus? No. Well, yes and no," he commented, leaning against one bed post at the end of my bed. "See, he hits on _everyone_, even Hermione, and everyone knows he's about as straight as a curly fry."

"As a what?"

"Never mind. Anyway, he's faithful to Dean," he finished, sitting on the end of my bed, causing it to shift under his weight.

"Okay, okay, okay," I said, shaking my head. "_How_ did Finnigan manage to change your mind?"

"Well," Harry drawled in a very mock way of my own drawl. He slid farther up the bed. "He was the only one that really knew about the fact that I liked you; well, that I liked boys in general really. See, many will claim that they know that I fly for one team or the other, but no one really _knew_, except Seamus. Anyway, I'm veering off topic. I came back from retrieving 'Mione's essay and I was in something of a pissy mood - wonder how _that_ happened. So, anyway, he was still awake in the common room when I waltzed in, and asked me what the matter was. I told him that you were being a poncey brat and that you were playing with my feelings and blah, blah, blah. Well, he said that seriously no one knew that I even liked you; if anyone had watched my actions toward you on a daily basis, they'd still think I hated your guts. He said that if you were pouring out your feelings for a _second_ time that you must be sincere."

Harry stretched out on the bed so that he was lying right next to me. In fact, he was almost _snuggling _me!

"And all that was in one breath," I mocked. "Okay that I get, but what about right before detention, hm? What was with the change of robes and the mussed hair?"

"Oh, that," Harry chuckled, laying an arm languidly across my chest. "Yeah, Seamus took me up to our room to try to make me look...presentable. Anyway, he used gel in my hair - which didn't work - and shortly thereafter, gave up, and decided to muss it with his hand in defeat. And he thought that you might enjoy the change of clothing."

I have to admit, I _did_ enjoy the change of clothing. Of course, I wouldn't tell him that.

Harry moved then, slowly at first, studying me with his green eyes, as he closed the gap between our lips. It was an awkward, almost clumsy way he claimed my mouth with his own, due to the angle. However, he shifted his body, throwing one leg over my abdomen, to straddle my stomach. That helped matters a _lot_. His tongue had free range of my mouth from his new position and he seemed to think that there was no better place for his hands than in my hair.

He pulled away and began to kiss a trail down my jaw line to where it met my ear, and he didn't stop there. His journey continued down my neck, nipping and licking every inch of skin presented. When he came to my collar bone, he looked back up at me, his eyes dark with something I could only label as desire. He smirked at me before beginning to undo the buttons on my shirt. His progress with the small, mother-of-pearl fastenings was sluggish, much too slow for my liking. But I could see how it was so slow; I mean it _is_ rather difficult to undo those small buttons with one's _mouth_! When he reached the buttons right over my stomach, the shifting of the fabric under his button-undoing began to tickle me. Harry looked up at me when I started laughing.

"What's wrong?" he inquired.

I shook my head and told him to continue. Harry did as I told him, working his way farther down my body.

When the last button was undone, he opened my shirt, giving himself a view of my torso that - if the hungry look in his eyes was anything to go by - he liked very much.

"How can someone be such a fucking prat but be so fucking beautiful?" he asked, his eyes still raking over my body.

"Talent," I smirked. "And Malfoy genes."

"Is that right?" Harry asked with sarcasm, leaning in to kiss my neck some more.

"Aye," I answered as he bit into a tender spot. He shifted again so he could look down at me, one eyebrow arched.

"'Aye'? Draco, who the fuck says 'aye'?"

"Apparently me," I informed him. "Now stop judging my choice of words and get on with it."

Of course, he obeyed the order, as any good little Gryffindor should do, and he began to place light kisses down my torso, from collar bone to...well, when he got to my stomach, he stopped. It's not like he meant to, but it tickled, and I told him so, but did he listen? _No_. He just kept on kissing, even as I began to laugh and try to squirm from his ministrations. Eventually, it got so bad, I accidentally kicked him. Off the bed. With a loud _thud_.

"Oh Merlin, I killed Harry Potter!"

"Don't worry." He came up from the floor, rubbing the back of his head. "It'll take more than that to kill me..."

I sighed melodramatically. "And here I thought I had succeeded where the Dark Lord had failed - over and over again."

"You git," Harry mumbled at me as he climbed back onto the bed.

"Beautiful git," I corrected him.

Harry snorted. I refrained from telling him how unbecoming that was. "Remind me never to compliment you ever again."

"But Harry," I whined. "I like compliments. It feeds my ego."

"Merlin knows your ego's big enough as it is." He did that smirking thing again. I refrained from telling him to bite me, seeing as how he probably would. Again.

"It could still get bigger," I retorted. "You have no idea."

"I'm sure," he murmured as he leaned in to recapture my lips for a brief kiss. "Now, are you not gonna try to kick me from the bed?"

"It's not like I _meant _to do it," I protested, pushing my bottom lip out in what I thought was a very cute pout.

It was his turn to sigh melodramatically. "Oh, Draco, what am I _ever_ going to do with you?"

"Preferably shag me, but you seem to keep running your mouth," I berated. "So I highly doubt that's going to get done anytime in the near future."

"I'll show you 'anytime in the near future'," Harry smirked down at me before attacking my stomach again.

I don't think it's necessary to tell that I shrieked, like a little girl, but _some _speccy, shaggy haired git, whom will remained unnamed, wanted to make sure I told the whole story when recounting this, so he made sure I included it. He wouldn't let me claim this one as a manly yell. Anyway, on with the story.

Harry attempted to devour my stomach through his kissing and licking and biting, none of which sat well with me, but he pinned down my legs so I couldn't pull a repeat performance, and I wasn't about to push him off, seeing as how my hands were _still _bound and of no use to me. So instead, I squirmed. A lot. Not that he seemed to take notice. Nope, he just followed my undulating with that wicked mouth of his.

"H-Harry, s-s-stop that!" I cried. "It t-tickles!"

He made one last, exaggerated slurping noise as he licked a line from my belly button.

"Stop what?" he inquired innocently, looking up at me through his fringe. He then pressed a kiss into the middle of my stomach. I giggled.

"_That_!" I told him through gasping breaths.

"This?" he asked in that innocent voice again, before placing yet another kiss to my abdomen, just slightly lower.

"_Yes_!" I was quivering and practically sobbing from the sensations sent through my body because of his flirtatious tickling.

"Oh, I was completely unaware that I was even doing it," he smirked at me.

"Lying bastard," I accused even as he kissed me again, only this time moving lower still.

As opposed to the buttons of my shirt, he made good time with the buttons of my slacks, quickly ridding me of the garment.

"Seriously, Draco, green?" Harry asked, his eyes glancing back and forth between my face and the monogrammed boxers that were the only protection from his gaze. "I mean, it's so cliché."

"And so is the scar, but nobody complains about that," I retorted. "Now, what happened to showing me 'anytime soon'? It seems you're a little lax on the job."

He merely smirked up at me. "Really? Well, it seems I'll have to fix that."

With one fell swoop, he'd hooked his finger under the waistband of my boxers and yanked, sending them soaring through the air, probably to end up near my trousers. He quickly mumbled something that could only be 'gorgeous' before he took me into his mouth. I bit my lip and nearly screamed as I wrenched at the silk binding my wrists. Gods, I knew there was a reason why I was attracted to him! The only thing better than the sounds I was making were the sounds _he _was making.

The wonderful feeling Harry was providing was over in about thirty seconds flat; now I may be exaggerating a bit, but that's about how long it had felt. But how can you blame me? I mean, it's Harry Potter we're talking about here, the boy I have this colossal crush on, so it's really no surprise it was so fast. Still, it was too quick if you ask me, and – judging by his quirked eyebrow as Harry wiped at the corner of his mouth – obviously he thought so, too.

He wasted no time casting a quick, wandless spell to coat his fingers in a clear, scented gel; I obediently spread my legs farther apart. With his un-gelled hand, he lifted one of my legs up and over his shoulder, allowing his gelled fingers to push better against my puckered entrance. All his cooing and 'soothing' comments couldn't stop me from wincing as his first finger pushed into me; however, his incessant kissing from there on helped with the addition of two more fingers.

"Ready, Draco?" he asked. I could feel his fingers spreading and moving inside me, filling yet leaving me oh so empty.

"About as ready as I'm gonna get," I bit out as Harry slid his fingers out, completely emptying me. I could feel his blunt tip as he leaned in to kiss me again.

He bit my bottom lip at the exact moment he made a forward thrust with his hips, entering me until I could feel the warmth of his thighs against my own arse. Harry swallowed my scream as he continued to kiss me. He didn't move and allowed my body to adjust to him for a moment. Then, without warning, he pulled out ever so slightly and pushed back into me; the way he angled his hips caused him to his _that_ spot and fireworks exploded in my mind.

"Don't scream so loud," Harry whispered; his voice echoed in my head as the explosions began to die.

"I wasn't…screaming," I gasped. I spread my legs farther apart and arched my back right off the bed, trying to get him to make more fireworks.

He nuzzled the side of my neck. "Yesss…you are…"

Harry had continued to speak to or coax or command me; I don't know exactly what he was saying, because it was said in that hiss of his that just rolled off his tongue. Just hearing it sent me over the edge again. My vision filled with stars, bright white stars, and my toes curled into the green sheets of my bed.

By the time I had come down from my high, Harry was already slumped against me and I could feel the result of his own orgasm inside me; it was kinda uncomfortable, but it seemed like the wrong moment to mention something like that. However, I didn't have to remain in my uncomfortable state very long, because, as he moved to lie beside me, Harry performed a quick cleansing charm. Another mumbled word or two, and my hands were free of their restraints.

"Next time it will be better," he promised as pulled me close; I rest my head on his chest.

"Presumptuous, aren't we?" I mocked.

"No," he replied. "'Cause I know that since you now have me, you won't give me up."

Since when had he become clairvoyant?

"Fine, I'll concede that one," I grumbled.

It was quiet for some time, the only sound filling my shared room was our breathing. After some time, he said, "Told you there was some Gryffindor in you."

I slapped his chest. "Harry! That was vulgar."

"But true," he countered.

I huffed in defeat and it became quiet again. However, his little comment got me thinking…he never told me which House he'd be in if not Gryffindor.

"Hey, Harry?" I asked. He hummed in reply and I could feel the reverberation through his chest. "Which other House would you be in?"

"Evidently that's an easy one," he commented. "The Sorting Hat really wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I asked for it not to, so I got Gryffindor. Apparently, it was a tossup, so I guess that makes me some sort of hybrid. Gryffindor and Slytherin combined in one person…how many of those do you find?"

"Not many," I answered his hypothetical question.

Suddenly, he sat up and looked down the length of the bed.

"I really hope you don't have some sort of obsessive-compulsive tic when it comes to your clothing and where it goes," he said out of nowhere. "'Cause if that's the case, then I'll have to break you of it."

"Pft, like you could," I retorted.

Harry laughed. "Sure I could. All I would need is one hell of a plot, and evidently, Slytherins aren't the only ones who can create dastardly plans. I could do it."

The thought of Harry creating 'dastardly plans' made me think he'd become more Slytherin because of his exposure to me. So, but default, it'd be unavoidable that I would become more Gryffindor.

Yeah, I'm not looking forward to that.

_**Fins**_


End file.
